


there’s no value lost in losing me

by tigerlo



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F, remember that when you're reading eh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-21
Updated: 2019-07-05
Packaged: 2020-03-07 12:08:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 29,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18872911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tigerlo/pseuds/tigerlo
Summary: "She’s too good for you, Charity, you know that, don’t you?”“You don’t know anything about us."“Maybe not, but I know all I need to about you.”Frank convinces Charity to make a terrible decision.





	1. One; Charity.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic started from the strangest point of inspiration, a quote on a gifset (not vanity related) that said:
> 
> Did you do it?  
>  _Yes. ___  
> What did it cost?  
>  _Everything. ___  
> And that pretty much sets the scene for this story.
> 
> I'll try and get a new chapter up every few days if I can but bear with around real life stuff. Enjoy the sweet, sweet torment, and don't lose sight of that happy ending.

-

 

 

_Oh. I'd almost forgotten what pain felt like._

 

 

-

 

 

It’s late when Charity hears footsteps coming up the cobblestone path. Her hands are loaded with glasses from the picnic tables outside but she feels a smile creep over her features regardless because there’s only one person who comes looking for her this near to closing.

 

“Where’s Ness?” Charity asks Frank when she raises her head, frowning, thoroughly disappointed to see him instead of his daughter.

 

“With Megan and the kids,” Frank says plainly.

 

There’s something off about him, Charity can sense it instantly. More so than usual. Something that puts more of a chill in the air around her, something that makes the hairs on her arms stand on end.

 

“So what are you doing here, then?” Charity replies a little derisively, screwing her nose up at him, wishing some busybody would come past demanding one more drink before closing, just to give her an excuse to slip away.

 

“I wanted to have a word,” Frank says bluntly.

 

The way he speaks to her, the look in his eye, makes Charity take a step back involuntarily. She’s spent more than enough time around men who wished her ill to know when the desire to do so is staring her in the face.

 

“Yeah, well, I’m not really in the mood now, am I. Long day and all that,” Charity says, turning her body, taking a step towards the light streaming out of the pub door. She doesn’t get far though, before a rough hand closes around her elbow.

 

The reaction is quick and knee-jerk and all muscle memory. She rips her arm back out of his grip so hard it hurts her, sending two of the glasses to the ground in the process, smashing on the rough, uneven stone.

 

“Get your hands off me,” Charity hisses, her heart pounding in her chest, leaning towards Frank and not away when she speaks because she’ll be damned if she cowers for him. “Touch me like that again and I’ll thump you so hard you’ll forget your own stupid name, you hear me? Or I’ll scream bloody murder until the whole street comes out of them doors. Your daughter knows that sound well enough to recognise it by now, she’d come running the second she heard it.”

 

“And she’d believe you, would she?” There’s a cruelness in his voice as he backs away, raising his hands as if to show proof he means no harm, even though the anger in his voice tells a completely different story.

 

“Is there something you wanted to say to me, Frank?” Charity asks, kicking a large shard of glass to the side so she can step directly into his personal space, forcing him to retreat a step, to put some distance between them.

 

“Why else would I be here, talking to you?” he says with a sudden calmness to his tone that makes Charity’s stomach turn over.

 

She wonders distantly whether she should scream for Vanessa anyway.

 

“Go on then,” Charity pushes instead, raising her hands and shrugging. “Haven’t got all night, have we? I’d rather be shot of you as soon as possible.”

 

“I want you to stay away from Vanessa,” he says, straightening his back as he speaks like the action will give him more power over her.

 

Charity laughs in his face the second the words leave his mouth, because it’s ridiculous, it’s _ridiculous_. Why on earth would she ever-

 

“It’s a bit late for that, babe,” Charity says around another barked laugh. “We don’t half live together, you know, so there’s that, not to mention the fact that she’s completely in love with me.”

 

“I’m serious, Charity. It’s not a joke,” Frank replies coldly, a hardness to his face that makes Charity feel sick. That reminds her of… “And I know Vanessa loves you,” he adds, “why else do you think I’m here talking to you and not to her. If she didn’t she’d be much easier to convince to see reason, wouldn’t she?”

 

“Oh aye, and is it a suggestion then, Frank? This little proposed plan of yours?” Charity spits. She’s angry now, or scared. She’s never been very good at telling the difference. “Or a threat?”

 

“Neither,” he says in reply, so damn calm it makes Charity want to scream in his face. “It’s neither. I’m counting on you to make the right choice for once in your sad, miserable life, Charity.”

 

“And why the bloody hell would I do something you wanted me to do?” Charity laughs, because she can’t actually believe what it is that she’s hearing. “Why would I do that, completely parking the fact that I flamin’ love her. That doing this would be making me miserable too? When have I ever made a decision like that to screw myself over so thoroughly?”

 

“It’s because you love her that I know you will. Whatever your twisted version of love is anyway,” Frank says derisively, looking at her the same way every single man in her life has looked at her. Like she’s worthless, nothing but a bump on the road. “This thing with her job?” he says, referring to the barring, “it’s a blip. She’s going places, our Ness, she’s a smart girl. But she won’t go anywhere with you weighing her down. She’s too good for you, Charity, you know that, don’t you?”

 

“You don’t know anything about us,” Charity tries to spit but she’s run out of venom.

 

There’s an instant panic that’s set in, exacerbated by the truth in his words that’s already choking her, beating her voice down. She wants to hit him, to feel his nose break under her knuckles as she tells him that maybe he’s right but Vanessa’s different. Vanessa doesn’t care that she’s not good enough, Vanessa loves her anyway.

 

“Maybe not, but I know all I need to about you,” Frank sighs, resigned, like she’s nothing. A pathetic, meaningless, nothing.

 

She wants to bite back at him that he doesn’t know the first thing about her either, but he does. He was there at the press day with Tracy. He knows what Bails did to her, what he made her. Irredeemable. Dirty. Used.

 

“You’ve blinded her,” he continues when he realises he’s hit a raw nerve, “you’ve tricked her into thinking you’re something better than you are. I know it. Megan knows it. We all know it. There’s no one in this whole village who believes the two of you are a good match, not even her sister.”

 

Charity wishes she could refute it but the trouble is, hearing those things enough, from as many people as she has, it’s hard to ignore when there’s only ever been one lone voice fighting against the furore to tell her different.

 

Maybe Vanessa is blinded. Maybe Charity did the blinding. Maybe all of this is her fault, and she’s gotten so good at manipulation she doesn’t even realise she’s doing it anymore.

 

“Get out of here, Frank,” Charity seethes through gritted teeth, forcing the thickening of her throat, and the tears, back because there’s no way in hell she's going to give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry, not after everything she’s endured.

 

He’s nothing, she tells herself; she tenses her jaw. He’s nothing compared to what she’s faced. Nothing. He might think she’s nothing, but he is too. “Leave, now,” she hisses. “Before I do or say something I’ll regret.”

 

He ducks his head as though he hasn’t just spent the last ten minutes beating Charity’s self-esteem down, as though he’s nothing but completely innocent. Absolved of all sins because she’s there to wear the brunt of them, like she always has.

 

“Think about it, Charity,” he says as he turns, not even bothering to give her the respect of a goodbye.

 

Charity swears crudely under her breath after he walks away, bending down to pick the broken glass too roughly, a jagged piece slipping in her shaking hands and cutting a deep line across her palm. She hisses and drops it like it’s red hot, tipping her head back to look at the stars as the blood wells and drips off her little finger, staining the cobbles beneath her feet.

 

Oh well, she thinks sharply. At least she has something to cry about now.

 

-

 

“You have to be more careful,” Vanessa says with a sigh.

 

She’s here now, holding Charity’s hand over the sink in the bathroom at Tug Ghyll after a panicked phone call from Chas when Charity had walked back inside the pub, gingerly holding her bleeding hand.

 

Vanessa had come running through the door a minute later, pulling a slightly shell-shocked Charity directly back to her place, taking her straight upstairs to tend to the cut.

 

“You know me, babe,” Charity laughs dryly. “Clumsy as anything, aren’t I?”

 

She only feels about half-present, half actually half here, while the other more substantial half plays Frank’s conversation with her over and over and over in her head.

 

“No,” Vanessa replies with a slightly worried note in her voice. “You’re not actually, not normally anyway. What happened?”

 

“Nothing, Ness,” Charity says, trying to sound as convincing as she possibly can. She knows from the look on Vanessa’s face that it doesn’t wash.

 

“I don’t believe you at all, but if you don’t want to talk about it, it’s okay,” Vanessa says softly around a frown. “Just make sure you do when you’re ready, alright?”

 

“Yeah, cheers, babe. I will,” Charity replies, her throat thick. It’s lucky then, that Vanessa chooses that moment to hold Charity’s hand under the tap to clean it before dabbing a bit of disinfectant onto it so she can hide her choked exclamation as pain from that and not something else.

 

Vanessa is gentle as she helps Charity, placing a few butterfly stitches over the cut with a surgeon's precision, wrapping it in a bit of gauze before taping it all closed. She’s too gentle, and it just brings Frank’s words crashing down around her because she doesn’t deserve someone this careful with her body, she never has, it’s why she’s never had it before.

 

It’s why she’s never been able to find it before because it’s too much for her. It’s too good. It’s _too_ good.

 

She’s been a cosmic accident in her life, Vanessa Woodfield has. Just another joke at her expense, showing her what softness really looks like after decades of pain before she has to give it up and go back to the harsh cold of solidarity.  

 

“Charity,” Vanessa says with that odd kindness that Charity has only ever heard from her. Never from anyone else; not her parents, not her husbands, no one, as she covers Charity’s injured hand in her own. “What’s wrong?”

 

“Nothing, babe,” Charity says, shaking her head and clearing her throat, trying to bite back the tears. “Nothing, it just hurts like a hound, is all. Didn’t realise how deep it was until you started torturing - oh sorry, I mean cleaning it.”

 

Vanessa looks at her like she still doesn’t believe a word Charity’s saying, like she knows there’s more to it, but she doesn’t push, she just raises Charity’s hand to her lips instead and kisses it softly.

 

She doesn’t deserve this, Charity thinks to herself with a wince. How was she ever stupid enough to believe she was worthy of it for more than a second.

 

“Come on, I’ll make you a brew, yeah?” Vanessa says gently. “Complete that torture by making you watch some rubbish telly.”

 

She wraps her arm around Charity’s shoulders, kissing the top of her head for good measure, and Charity has to stop herself from flinching away, from telling Vanessa, _no_ , that it’ll only make things worse when she has to do what needs to be done.

 

Only, she’s not half a coward when she’s with Vanessa, and she accepts the comfort gladly without saying another word. She curls up next to Vanessa once they settle on the couch, and doesn’t move an inch until Vanessa drags her upstairs for bed, because she cannot shake the feeling of dread, like there’s an axe hanging over her head with some looming sense of finality lingering with it and if she moves too quickly it’ll fall before she’s ready to deal with the consequences.

 

Vanessa wraps herself around Charity completely when they crawl beneath the covers, sealing her front against Charity’s back, holding Charity’s hand carefully in her own.

 

“You can tell me anything, you know?” Vanessa says softly, kissing her bare shoulder, her breath warm over the skin as Charity attemps not to focus on the fact that she feels like she’s trying to memorise the action. She breathes deeply against the nape of Charity’s neck. “Anything at all.”

 

It’s all too much: the kindness, Vanessa’s warmth, the scratching of Frank’s voice against the back wall of her chest, it’s all too much, and suddenly Charity can’t take it a second longer. She turns in Vanessa’s arms, kissing her desperately, wrapping her arms around Vanessa’s shoulders and holding her tight enough to squeeze the air from both of their lungs.

 

“Charity, you’re scaring me. What’s-“ Vanessa starts to ask, pulling back from Charity’s reach, her face pale even in the low light of the room.

 

“Please, Ness,” Charity says and she’s tired, she’s so tired of pretending that she’s good enough. “Don’t make me talk tonight, please just kiss me instead.”

 

Frank was right, he was right, damn him to hell. He was right but he doesn’t get his wish - his demand - tonight. She wants one more night before she pushes Vanessa away. Just one more to remember what it feels like to have someone that loves you, touch you, because she’s not sure she’ll ever have that again. It’s not something she’s sure she’ll ever want again, because nothing and nobody will ever, _ever_ be as good as Vanessa Woodfield.

 

Vanessa looks terrified but she must be able to sense the desperation in Charity, or hear it in her voice, because she doesn’t question Charity again, she just kisses her deeply instead, until her hands find bare skin and she pulls Charity as close as she can, her fingers never losing their tremble as they clutch Charity’s flesh.

 

She knows that Vanessa knows there’s something very, very wrong, she can feel it in the way she hardly puts a lick of space between the two of them the whole time they’re touching, how she pushes Charity harder than usual, how she bends her back sharper when Charity finally touches her.

 

It’s different, the desperate intimacy, they both know it but neither of them say a thing. They just cling to each other instead and leave their marks in half-moon bruises and a line of teeth and a whispered, sighed _I love you._

 

They make love all night, until they’re both exhausted and spent some time into the early morning. And it’s that - making love, not sex - because Charity knows the difference now. She didn’t before. Before Vanessa. But she does after her.

 

“Please don’t do this,” Vanessa says to her as Charity rolls over in bed in the morning, searching for Vanessa’s warmth one last time, kissing her without saying anything at all.

 

The panic hits her like a blow to the stomach, so does the fear in Vanessa’s voice, and she tries to school her own expression before she turns to Vanessa but she knows it doesn’t work.

 

“Ness, I-“ she starts but Vanessa is already shaking her head, her eyes full of tears that fall when she throws herself against Charity, a length of warm skin against her still-naked body.

 

“Please don't do this, Charity, please,” Vanessa says, stronger this time, and Charity can feel her tears falling into the crook of her neck. “I don’t know what I’ve done or what’s wrong but please, _please_ don’t do this.”

 

“You haven’t done anything, babe,” Charity replies shakily. She wants to scream or cry or both but she knows she can’t, she knows that she has to stave off that for as long as she can because she’ll never do what has to be done if she loses it too. “You haven’t, it’s just…it’s for the best, yeah?”

 

“The best for who?” Vanessa asks fiercely, a fire in her eyes when she pulls away from Charity’s neck, her hand hard in Charity’s own. “Who’s put this stupid idea in your head?”

 

“Contrary to popular bloody belief, I am actually capable of making my own decisions,” Charity lies, because it’s easier, Vanessa’s anger, it’s more palatable than her grief. It always has been. _This is better_ , she thinks with an internal wince. _Keep her too angry to be sad._

 

“Not ones like this you don’t. Not unless you’re pushing me away for some ridiculous reason,” Vanessa says, shaking her head as two more tears roll down her reddening cheeks and the air leaves her. “I thought we were past this, Charity. I thought we were so far past this, past you holding me at an arm’s length, past you doubting me, doubting us.”

 

“I’m not good for you,” Charity replies with a sigh, finishing the _I’m not good enough for you, either_ in her mind.

 

“Someone _has_ put this in your head,” Vanessa says immediately, the colour draining from her face. “Tell me who it was because I swear to god I’ll kill them myself. Was it Megan? My dad? God, Charity, Bails hasn’t found a way to get in touch, has he?”

 

“There’s no one else, babe,” Charity returns with a shake of her head, sitting up in bed, already trying to plan her way out of the house before the boys wake up.

 

“There isn’t, is there?” Vanessa asks, paling again and it’s clear what she’s asking; whether someone else has turned her head, whether that’s what’s causing this. “There’s not…”

 

“There’s no one else, Vanessa,” Charity says simply, meeting Vanessa’s eye and giving her the truth.

 

Because she’ll do what she needs to do to sever this thing between them, to give Vanessa a proper chance at what she deserves, but she won’t do that, lie and hurt her in as cruel a way. She might have done it with anyone else in her past, but she won’t hurt Vanessa like that to achieve it. Vanessa deserves more than that. She’s the only person that Charity’s ever known that does.

 

“Then why can’t we just…” Vanessa asks shakily, throwing her hands, including the one still clinging to Charity’s into the air. “Why can’t we just talk or sleep on it or something, why can’t we just-”

 

“I have to, babe,” Charity says as she gently extracts her hand from Vanessa’s, even though it breaks her heart to do it, even though the look on Vanessa’s face when she does so is worse than anything else she’s ever seen in her entire life. “We’re from different worlds, aren’t we? It was never going to work, this. Not properly.”

 

Vanessa just shakes her head in something like disappointment and Charity hates herself for putting that cynicism there, for following through on the promise she’d made such a long time ago now. _I can’t promise I won’t hurt you in the end. And here we are just like I said we would be._

 

“It felt like a goodbye,” Vanessa says as a clean, hot line splits down the middle of Charity’s chest. “The way you touched me last night, and this morning. It felt like you were already halfway out the door.”

 

She hates herself for that too, that she couldn’t even give Vanessa a proper goodbye without her knowing that something was wrong. She hates that Vanessa probably stayed up half the early morning worrying after she fell asleep. She hates that Vanessa knew this was coming.

 

Predictable until the end, Charity thinks with a grimace. What an idiot to think I’d finally grown out of it.

 

“I won’t stop, you know,” Vanessa says with a clenched jaw. “I won’t stop fighting for this. For our family. For you. Even if you walk out that door downstairs, I won’t stop fighting until you come back.”

 

“There’s nothing left to fight for, babe,” Charity replies, sliding out of bed, turning her back before Vanessa can see her crying. Her hands shake as she pulls her trousers on and she knows she doesn’t hide that fully, because she catches Vanessa’s wince out of the corner of her eye. “I’m done.”

 

-

 

Charity doesn’t ever remember feeling like this before. Vanessa cries and she begs and she pleads as she dresses herself, loud enough for Johnny to open his bedroom door with bleary eyes when Charity walks out onto the landing and Vanessa follows her.

 

“Is’it breakfast time?” he asks sleepily, looking up to Charity as he rubs his eyes and reaches for her.

 

She doesn’t bother looking for the devastated look she knows will be written all over Vanessa’s face, she can picture it clear enough without the visual.

 

“No, mate,” Charity says. She tries to wipe her eyes but she’s not quite quick enough and he reaches for her cheek when she bends down to talk to him. “Not yet, eh?” she says roughly. “Go back to sleep for a bit.”

 

“Why are you and mummy sad?” he asks with the easy perceptiveness of a child. “Did you have a nightmare?”

 

Vanessa makes a cofirmative noise behind her that Charity knows she doesn’t mean to let past her lips that is basically a confirmation of that, that this is all a nightmare, that this is all a massive bloody nightmare only one not so easily remedied when they’re already awake.

 

“We’re sad because I’ve just got to go away, okay? I’ve gotta go stay in my house for a bit,” Charity answers him, trying to talk through the lump in her throat.

 

“Oh,” he says, dropping his clenched fists into Charity’s hands as he processes her words before looking up to her with a frown. “When are you coming back?”

 

“Not for a while, eh?” Charity replies shakily. She bites her lip to push the tears back, trying desperately to ignore the stab of pain that comes from Vanessa’s muffled sob behind her.

 

“Can we still come to your house?” he asks, trying to make sense of everything, and Charity can’t help notice how painfully similar he and his mother are when they’re trying desperately to understand something.

 

“Probably not, love,” Vanessa says finally, reaching down for Johnny who hesitates for a moment, looking back to Charity.

 

“Can I have a cuddle, then? If you’re going away? You and mummy always have cuddles when you say goodbye,” he says without a hint of complication.

 

“Course you can, babe,” Charity says without hesitation, holding her arms out before she pauses, looking to Vanessa for her approval, but Vanessa can’t even hold her gaze. She nods and covers her mouth to catch another sob as she turns, wrapping her arms around her middle like she’s trying to keep herself together.

 

“Aren’t you going to hug mummy?” Johnny asks after Charity sets him back down on the ground, ruffling his hair before straightening her back and letting her gaze wash over Vanessa one last time.

 

“I don’t think she wants me to, kid,” Charity says with a dangerous waver in her voice, watching the way Vanessa’s shoulders fold inwards at Johnny’s suggestion. She knows that it’s a terrible idea, even if Vanessa will allow it, but the draw of Vanessa’s touch one last time is almost maddening.

 

“Don’t you, mummy?” Johnny asks innocently, his gaze flicking between the two of them like there shouldn’t be an issue in the world with it. “Charity’s good at hugs. Didn’t you say that before? They always make you feel better when you’re sad.”

 

Vanessa shrugs, clenching her jaw as a fresh set of tears roll down her cheeks, and Charity’s heart cracks at the sight. It’s the easiest thing to pull her into her arms, to squeeze hard enough that they both gasp with it. She feels a shudder move through Vanessa and pass into her own chest as she admits another sob, and Charity nestles her chin into the hollow of Vanessa’s neck, seeking the skin to skin contact desperately in an attempt to soothe her as the guilt of it all makes her stomach roll.

 

“You’re gonna be fine, Ness,” Charity says, crying again herself now, allowing the tangle of Vanessa’s morning hair to hide her tears from Johnny. “So much better without me.”

 

“No, I won’t,” Vanessa returns with a hiccup, and for a horrible, fleeting second Charity worries that Vanessa’s right. That she’s making a terrible decision. That she might just be the very best person for Vanessa Woodfield on the face of this planet, despite what her cockroach of a father thinks.

 

“Course you will, babe,” Charity says to herself more than anyone else in the room, desperate to make herself believe it now.

 

“We won’t,” Vanessa argues as her hands bunch in the fabric at Charity’s lower back desperately. “We’re all better with you here. Everything’s better with you here.”

 

“You will be, Vanessa,” Charity says sadly to the warmth of Vanessa’s neck, her lips brushing the skin they know so well by now as she prepares to pull herself away from this soft, solid life they’ve started to build together. “You will be. Everyone always is.”

 

-

 

Chas finds her first, nursing an almost empty bottle of wine in the back room later that afternoon.

 

“Is the reason you’re almost at the bottom of that, the same reason I’ve just heard that Tracy couldn’t even get Vanessa out of bed his morning?”

 

“I broke up with her, Chas,” Charity says shortly, not even bothering to look up to meet her cousins face. “Leave it, alright?”

 

“And why in the bloody hell have you done that?” Chas asks, thumping her on the shoulder before she slides into the seat opposite her.

 

Charity still doesn’t look up, tapping her phone to reveal the ten unanswered calls from Vanessa’s mobile, and the three from Tracy’s. “Better for everyone, isn’t it?” Charity says dryly, tipping the bottle, her chest easing some when the sharp bite of wine hits her tongue. “Too different, her and me. Better to finish things before they go any further.”

 

“This is better, is it?” Charity snaps in question. “I’m assuming it wasn’t because you wanted to then if you’ve got a face like a slapped arse on you? What’s happened? Has she gone and gotten all meddlesome again? Because you know she only means well and she’s actually mad about you, yeah?” Chas asks, swiping the bottle out of Charity’s hands, only for Charity to snatch it right back.

 

“Nothing’s happened, Chas,” Charity says with an exasperated sigh. “Nothing’s happened, alright? She’s not done nothing, so don’t go throwing any nonsense at her. It’s all me. As per usual.”

 

She takes another self-pitying swig of her wine, trying to ignore the look of deep worry that settles between Chas’s brows as she watches her, closing her eyes and listening to the tormented ache of her muscles from Vanessa’s attention in bed last night instead. Trying to savour the pain before it disappears for good.

 

“I know you prefer this hard as nails routine when you’re talking to everyone but her, but you’re actually allowed to talk to me about these things, you know?” Chas offers finally, wrapping her fingers around the neck of the bottle, not yanking it away but pulling it back just far enough so that she can fix Charity with a hard look over the top of it.

 

“I know,” Charity says with a tight nod, because she can’t do more than that, for fear of falling apart completely.

 

It’s almost pathetic really. She’s suffered far more than a bit of heartbreak for so much longer, but there’s something about this that feels like it cuts so close to the bone that Charity’s not sure it’ll ever stop hurting.

 

_It’s for the best,_ she reminds herself as she takes another gulp of wine, and Chas sighs heavily before pushing up from the table. Frank was right. Vanessa deserves more than a hollowed-out husk of a woman who’s barely got enough good in her to stand upright, and more scars to boot than a row of veteran soldiers.

 

“I’ll give you today to drown your sorrows, but you’d best be behind that bar tomorrow morning, lady,” Chas says from the door back through to the pub. Her voice sounds sad but Charity doesn’t meet her eye, so she can’t actually be sure. “If you’re stupid enough not to change your mind and fix this, and walk over to Vanessa’s with your hat in your hands and beg her to forgive you,” Chas continues sternly, “then Charity, love, you’re going to have to live with it.”

 

-

 

Charity thinks the first night in the bed alone is the worst because it still smells so heavily of Vanessa that she might as well still be there, but it only gets so much worse. Because the nights pass, and the scent of her fades, and Charity starts to forget what the exact note of her perfume even was to begin with.

 

She takes to letting Moses in with her after the fifth night, when she’s barely had enough rest to keep her eyes open during the day, in the hopes that some warmth will help her, but even he doesn’t, because all she can see when she looks at him is the ghost of Vanessa behind him, tickling him when he’d clamber between the two of them in the mornings.

 

A week passes and Charity doesn’t see her at all. She sees Tracy, who scowls at her and tries to pull her aside one evening before a massive barrage of customers walk through the door and save her from that lecture, and Megan, who looks at her with a strange mix of pity and sadness, and Frank, who looks so discreetly pleased with himself when he glances at her that Charity wants to smack the expression off of his face.

 

But she lifts her chin and she gets on with it as much as she can, because she’s Charity Dingle, and she’s not, no, she _can’t_ be, weak. She tries to pull her armour on like she has done every day of her life since she was a child, but she can’t seem to lash it tight enough to her body this time and it gapes at the sides, exposing far too much of unprotected skin.

 

She hears everybody whispering about the two of them, because the village has a complete and utter lack of privacy and no sense of what should and shouldn’t be gossiped about in the earshot of the gossipee. It all comes out in the wash eventually, without her even having to pry for it; that Vanessa wasn’t really interested in women, that Charity got bored of her, that Vanessa got sick of Charity, that the boys didn’t get along. Most of the blame seems to land on her, and she’s glad for that if she’s honest because Vanessa doesn’t deserve a lick of it. The snide looks everyone seems content to throw her way after a while once the truth surfaces that she broke Vanessa’s heart - and the pain they cause as a result - feel just a little bit like catharsis.

 

Vanessa stops calling after the sixth day, and that hurts Charity more than anything else because she’d said she’d fight, even though Charity had said it was over; she’d said she’d fight for them and this, and she stops so soon. Charity wants Vanessa to fight, she does, she wants it, even though it makes it hard, because the lack of it is almost suffocating.

 

She knows that’s likely someone else’s doing rather than Vanessa’s though, Tracy or Rhona taking her phone and forbidding the contact upon seeing nothing come back from Charity, in spite of the fact that all she wants to do is answer every single call and text message with a hurried _I love you, Ness. I fucked it all up but please take me back._ Only she doesn’t, because Frank’s snide face fills her mind and she gets a massive slap of reality of why she did this in the bloody first place, and dims her phone screen, instead.

 

Tracy approaches her on the seventh day, with a worried but firm expression on her face, and Charity steels herself for the worst, tensing her belly and plastering a fake smile on her face.

 

“Want another, love?” she asks, gesturing to Tracy’s empty glass but Tracy shakes her head in refusal.

 

Her gaze hardens at Charity across the bar. “No, I want to put some sense into you, but Vanessa’s told me I’m not allowed,” Tracy answers with a growl, her knuckles going white as she grips the heavy glass in her hands.

 

“How is…” Charity asks, and stalls, because Tracy’s face goes hard like Charity’s only seen it a few times before.

 

“I don’t know that you get to ask that anymore,” Tracy deadpans with a hard glare before relenting for a second. “How do you think she is, Charity?” she sighs heavily. “The love of her life dumped her and has carried on like she’s barely dropped a plate. She’s devastated.”

 

“I’m not-“ Charity says before Tracy puts her hand up, cutting her off neatly.

 

“I know that, because I’ve seen your mopey face, but she doesn’t because she’s not gotten out of bed yet,” Tracy says with a roll of her eyes. “Instead, all she’s heard from everyone else is that you seem to be getting on with life, minus the jumping into bed with someone else-thing, which is lucky, because I might have actually skinned you alive if you’d done that.”

 

“It wasn’t about that,” Charity sighs, her shoulders suddenly heavy with grief because if she closes her eyes she can almost smell Vanessa’s shampoo that Tracy must have used recently. “It was never about that,” Charity adds for the sake of clarity, even though she thinks Tracy already knows that. “Or anyone else.”

 

“Well then why, on God’s-green-earth, would you sack someone who was head-over-bloody-heels for you, and hung off your every word?” Tracy asks with a properly confused exasperation. “Because it didn’t look like you weren’t happy? You certainly didn’t look miserable all over each other in the kitchen every morning while I was trying to make a brew.”

 

Charity considers just telling Tracy to keep her nose out of other people's business, but she knows that won’t be enough, not for someone who loves Vanessa as much as she does. She’ll hound Charity until she’s had an answer that she’s satisfied with. No, Charity thinks, she’ll have to tell Tracy some semblance of the truth if she’s to leave her alone, or she’ll never hear the end of it.

 

“Because she deserves better than an old prostitute, Trace,” Charity says finally, and she hopes Tracy can hear the sincerity in her voice, because it’s not the whole truth, but it’s enough of it. It’s all that’s really important, because Frank’s meddling isn’t, ultimately, but his point is.

 

“You know that I don’t think that matters one bit,” Tracy replies sharply, fixing Charity with a glare. “And neither does she. Be that as it may if the other idiots in this town want to think it, but doesn’t she get a choice in it? She wants you, Charity, in spite of every other woman that exists out in the world who’d have her, others who preferably haven’t shagged our dad.”

 

“Sometimes we want things that are bad for us, kid,” Charity states, because there’s nothing else to say. Because Tracy’s right; Vanessa has a choice. It’s just that she’s going to make the wrong one. “Sometimes we want things that are terrible,” Charity shrugs helplessly, “and it’s up to other people, the people that love us, to try and fix things, to mop up the damage around that so it doesn’t hurt them so badly in the end.”

 

Tracy scoffs, laughing cynically in a way that turns a few heads before she looks back to Charity. There’s pity in the sound too, like she can almost see what it is that Charity’s trying to do, even if she thinks it’s imbecilic. It only brings more of the attention she’s had over the last few days though, unwanted glances that she fights back with a sharp eye. Tracy has the good grace to at least throw her a look of apology before she slides her beer mug from hand to hand.

 

“You’re making a mistake,” she says finally, her eyes sad, and Charity can see an echo of her sister there, of the expression that she’s seen far too many times on Vanessa’s face. One she’s put there herself.

 

_It’s proof,_ she thinks to herself with a wince. _She deserves more than your thorns. She deserves someone who doesn’t make her look like that. She deserves someone that only makes her smile._

 

“And I think I’ve done the right thing, so I guess we’re at a stalemate,” Charity returns, setting her hands on her hips. It helps send a rigidity through her back, it gives her a sense of stability that she doesn’t at all feel. “What did you want, anyway, Trace? Or was it just to get in line and have a go?”

 

“No,” Tracy answers, and she looks as tired as Charity feels by all of this. “No, the boys want to see each other. Moses and Johnny, I mean. I dunno about Noah, but the little ones, they want to see each other. And Vanessa didn’t think you’d answer another call, so…”

 

“Oh,” Charity says blankly, taken aback, because whatever she’d been expecting, it wasn’t that.

 

“Is it gonna be a problem?” Tracy asks her with a narrowed eye. “Because if it is, I think you’re gonna have to tell V yourself because I don’t want to have to deliver that news.”

 

“No, of course it’s not,” Charity replies quickly, shaking her head and trying to clear the image of Vanessa in bed, barely visible under the blankets like she is when she’s ill. Or upset. “Do they want to come here? Or-“

 

“I think she’d like to see Moz,” Tracy says, looking at her hands awkwardly. “I think it’d be good for her too. She’ll have to shower that way. But if you wanted to see Johnny, I’m sure she’d be happy for him to come round another day.”

 

“Christ, didn’t even think the kid would still want to see any of my lot,” Charity laughs dryly, because people are normally well shot of the Dingles by the time they can shoehorn them out of their lives. She’s not used to people wanting to come back, big or small.

 

“Yeah, well he does. And he wants to see you too if you want to actually be in the room while they’re hanging out. Didn’t you think about any of this?” Tracy asks a little impatiently.

 

Charity grits her teeth, clenching her fists to stop from smacking the annoyed look off Tracy’s face. “Course I bloody did,” Charity replies sharply, tensing her jaw to force the volume of her voice down. “And I assumed this kind of thing wouldn’t happen. People don’t like us, Tracy. It’s not normally something I have to worry about.”

 

“Yeah, well you made an impression on the Woodfields, didn’t you?” Tracy says wryly, but her tone lacks some of the poison of before. “Will you answer my calls to organise this then, if you won’t answer hers?”

 

“It’s not that I don’t want to talk to her, babe,” Charity returns defensively. She can see how it looks from their point of view, cutting Vanessa free and not taking any of her calls, like she doesn’t really give a shit at all. Almost funny how polaric the truth of it really is.

 

“Again, I know that, but what do you think it looks like from her end?” Tracy says not unkindly, grimacing as she looks at Charity. “Look, are you sure this is what you really want? Breaking things off, I mean. Because it’s not too late.”

 

“I want her to be happy, Trace. And I only make everybody miserable in the end,” Charity breathes as the air and the fight leaves her, because _Christ_ she’s tired. “She deserves so much more than that.”

 

It’s exhausting, this, she muses cynically; being heartbroken. It’s even worse when she thinks about Vanessa, too.

 

“Again, I say you should give her the choice of that,” Tracy says, levelling Charity with one last look as Charity finally refills the pint for her, thankful to have something to do with her shaking hands. “Don’t forget to answer when I call you about Johnny, alright?”

 

“Yeah, alright,” Charity replies sternly, glowering at Tracy when she slides the pint back. “Hey, kid,” she says when Tracy’s all but turned away, “make sure you’re looking after her, eh? Even though she’s a right pain in the arse when she’s upset.”

 

“You know I will,” Tracy says back with a sad smile before she takes a step towards the table, and Charity doesn’t think Tracy means for to hear the rest of her sentence, but she does regardless.

 

“If you’re not going to come to your stupid senses enough to make this right.”

 

-

 

She’s waiting for the inquisition of Noah, Charity is, and a little surprised that it doesn’t come quicker.

 

She’s bone tired when she drops onto the couch after the long shift and the conversation with Tracy, and the idea that Johnny still wants to see them, to see _her_ , is stuck under her tongue, leaving a horrible guilty taste in her mouth.

 

“So, what did you do?” Noah asks the second he walks through the door, dropping his backpack unceremoniously on the floor by the foot of the couch.

 

“Are we talking today, babe? Or my whole life? Because I’m afraid that’s not a story suitable for you just yet, yeah,” Charity says with a sigh, massaging her temples firmly, because she _really_ doesn’t need this twice in one day.

 

“You said she was different,” Noah frowns, glaring down at her. Good lord, he looks like her when he’s cross like this.

 

“She is different, kid,” Charity says, lifting her head off the back of the couch to catch his eye before letting it drop against the neck rest again. “Or she was.”

 

“Then why are we here again?” Noah asks with an accusatory huff. “If she’s so different, then why is she gone? And why are you miserable? Normally you’re happy when they go. Did she dump you, then? Did you do something wrong again?”

 

“I didn’t do anything, babe,” Charity says, her throat thickening when she sees the anger and upset on his face, knowing as great as it is that it’s only a fraction of Vanessa’s. A fraction of her own.

 

“Well, then why is Ness gone?” he asks, a small slip of upset child in his eyes, _just_ obscured by the mardy teenager. He’s hurt. Or confused. Or both.

 

“I didn’t even think you liked her, Noah, so why do you care?” Charity throws back, deflecting, and he takes a step back like he’s been pushed.

 

“I did like her,” he mumbles, just loud enough for her to hear, even though he’s now talking to the floor. “She was nice. She used to bring me crisps home to eat after school, cause she knew I wouldn’t have the carrot sticks she made Johnny eat. And she was nice to you. She made you happy.”

 

“She made me very happy, babe,” Charity replies, biting her lip hard, taken aback, because she hadn’t been expecting him to take this tack.

 

Berate her for being a bad person, sure, but she hadn’t expected him to have become fond of Vanessa after all. He’s as stubborn as she is sometimes, she thought the icy routine had been how he’d really felt. She wonders whether Vanessa had felt the same, whether she’d thought Noah just hated her, or if she’d seen through it.

 

“I know I’ve not exactly given you a good oversight of healthy relationships, but not everything has to end in screaming, you know,” Charity explains quietly.

 

It’s different, this. Defending the dissolution of a relationship in a totally different way than she’s ever had to before. It hurts more like this. Shame stings something wicked, but guilt aches down to the bone.

 

She can feel her eyes watering again as she looks to him, but she can’t stop it this time. “Sometimes….” she falters. “Sometimes, babe, people can be happy with each other but it’s just…it’s just not right.”

 

“But it looked right,” he mumbles, stubbing his toe into the carpet. “And you were different with her. Good different. Not fake different like you were with the others.”

 

That hurts, it really does. Because she’d known that Vanessa had made her softer, kinder, more patient through sheer willpower alone, but she hadn’t known that he’d realised. Not that much.

 

“Some people are just different, eh?” Charity answers, daring to reach for his hand as he picks at a stray thread running off the end of the sofa. “Not meant to be. Ness and I just come from different worlds, is all.”

 

“She fit alright into this one though, didn’t she?” he asks, suddenly looking much older than his small stack of years. “She was good, Mum. She never turned her nose up at that stupid Dingle stuff, all the drama, all of you, not once. She never acted like the others did.”

 

“Yeah, she did, but…” Charity starts, and then stumbles, because the problem has really never been Vanessa, who slotted so easily into Dingle-life it had almost been scary. Vanessa who’d made an effort to turn every naysayer around until they all loved her as much as Charity did. “I didn’t fit so well into hers, babe.”

 

“But you love her. I’ve heard you say it,” Noah replies, shaking off her hand lightly so he can pick at the pilling on his school jumper. “Don’t people say that’s the only thing that matters? When you love someone?”

 

“I did, babe,” Charity says quickly, “I do. But sometimes that’s not enough, yeah?”

 

“So that’s it then? It’s just us again?” Noah asks with a frown, the sadness blown away by a jaded resignation she should never ever put on his face.

 

“Well, Moz wants to see Johnny, and Ness,” Charity says after a moments hesitation. She’s wary about mentioning it but he’ll know the second Moses does that he’s now got a play date so there’s no point in trying to obscure it. “If you wanted to go and see her too, I’m sure she’d like that.”

 

“They’ll probably need watching,” he says gruffly after considering it for a quiet minute. “If you’re not gonna be there. And it beats being here, I suppose, with no one else. At least she’s got good telly.”

 

“Oi, gratitude, much,” Charity says sharply, glaring at him and crossing her arms over her chest defensively. “Sorry I put a boring bloody roof over your head.”

 

Noah softens for just a flash of a second, hesitating before he grabs the blanket draped over the arm of the couch and tosses it into her lap when she shivers with a draft of cold air under the door.

 

“I’ve got homework to do,” he says, not acknowledging the small moment of kindness, turning his hunched shoulders, scooping his bag off the floor and walking towards the stairs. “Text me when you know what day I can go round.”

 

“Or you could come down and talk to me like a _person_ ,” she throws after him, but it’s too late. The hall door slams in its frame, and she’s left there alone. Again.  

 

She pulls the blanket tighter around her middle, unfolding it so it wraps over the tops of her shoulders too even though it does little to block out the cold, and desperately tries to ignore the wave of Vanessa’s shampoo that rises off the fibres when she does so.

 

-


	2. Two; Vanessa.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You can’t live in there forever, you know,” Tracy tries softly as her weight settles on the end of the bed. 
> 
> Vanessa, in the days that follow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I buggered up when I posted this and set the publication date four days before I actually posted it, so if any of you are confused or seeing this now for the first time, that's why. Whoops. 
> 
> I hadn't ever planned to write from Vanessa's side in this, but this kind of happened and I thought it served enough of a purpose to leave it in. This is the only chapter from Vanessa's POV, and it's short, but I wanted to get into her head for just long enough to see how badly she's hurting too. 
> 
> x

 

 

-

 

_ Who needs closure when you have heartache? _

 

-

  
  


“V, you have to get up. There are almost more tissues in here than there is spare air.”

 

Tracy’s voice is muffled through the blankets over her head and Vanessa can barely discern the different words, but she doesn’t care. It’s warm here, and Charity’s perfume still clings to the sheets,  _ just _ , but it won’t for much longer. 

 

“I don’t have work today, I’ve already text Rhona,” Vanessa replies with a sniffle. She honestly can’t believe she’s got any liquid in her body left to cry, but somehow the tears keep coming, one after the other. 

 

“What about-“ Tracy begins but Vanessa preempts the question, cutting her off. 

 

“Dad said he’s fine with Johnny again,” Vanessa says, still not bothering to lift the covers and look at her sister. “So that’s not going to work either.”

 

“You can’t live in there forever, you know,” Tracy tries softly, a different tact, as her weight settles on the end of the bed. 

 

She knows that Tracy’s right, even if hiding here is the only thing she wants to do for the rest of her life, save maybe a grubby plate of fish and chips after a week of toast, but she can’t bear the thought of getting dressed and facing the world. Because it’s final, when she gets out of this bed. Their relationship, or rather, the end of it. It’s done. At least here she can cling to the idea that it’s still just a very bad dream for a little while longer. 

 

“Noah wants to come too,” Tracy says and it’s enough to catch Vanessa by surprise, enough for her to stop rustling and listen, even if it is probably Tracy fibbing to try and get her attention. 

 

“What?” she asks quietly, the rush back of her breath against the duvet warm on her cheeks. 

 

“Noah wants to come with Moses when they pop over tomorrow,” Tracy explains, her voice soft as she gives Vanessa’s foot a little squeeze through the covers.

 

Vanessa does throw the blankets off her head then because she’s positive now that Tracy’s pulling her leg. “Noah,” Vanessa deadpans, “the boy who ignored my presence or scowled at me the entire time we were together, wants to come here tomorrow? Is Charity making him?”

 

“Spoke to him myself to make sure he wasn’t going to be a pillock, and he says it’s to mind the little ones, but I think he misses you, V,” Tracy says, trying to hide her smile at Vanessa’s appearance, messy hair and flushed cheeks on full display. 

 

“I don’t believe it,” she says cynically, narrowing her eye and moving to drape the blanket over herself again before Tracy catches it and yanks it back. 

 

“Well, you can set eye on him tomorrow and decide for yourself, can’t you,” Tracy says sternly, scowling at Vanessa when she attempts to pull the blanket out of her grip. “Are you going to shower before then, or should I try and pull the hose up here?”

 

“I’ve showered,” Vanessa grumbles in return, flopping back against the mattress so she doesn’t have to look at the pitiful expression on Tracy’s face. “Just not today, is all.”

 

“Tomorrow you need to shower again, slap a face on, see the boys, and pretend you’ve not been in bed all week crying over a stupid bird who broke your heart,” Tracy says firmly. 

 

It’s harsh, and it makes Vanessa grimace, but Tracy doesn’t miss a step and Vanessa understands that tough love has finally arrived now in place of anything softer. 

 

“They think I’ve got a bug,” Vanessa tries to justify, twisting the bed covers in her hands to busy them. “It’s fine.”

 

“They’re not young or stupid enough to miss that something’s wrong, V. They’ll know it’s more than a cold the second they see you, Noah especially,” Tracy says, slapping her hands on her thighs as she stands, and the question on Vanessa’s lips tumbles past them before she can stop it. 

 

“Did you see her then?” Vanessa asks quietly. She doesn’t have to provide any more detail for Tracy to understand who she’s talking about. “Did you talk to her? How was she?”

 

“She’s putting on a brave face, but she looks terrible if you know what you’re looking for,” Tracy replies shortly, and Vanessa can tell that Tracy won’t let her do this for long, draw information out about Charity, but she softens for a second anyway. “She looks tired, babe,” Tracy adds. “Really tired. And sad.”

 

“So, she’s not… I mean she hasn’t….” Vanessa asks cautiously. She can’t even finish her sentence, because the thought of her having moved on already makes her feel sick, of someone that’s not her in their bed, kissing Charity.  _ Touching _ her. 

 

“She’s not jumped into the sack with anyone else, V,” Tracy replies with a sad sigh. “Not that anyone in the village would have her. I think she’s already ticked everyone off that might have, but she’s not even trying, I haven’t even seen her flirt with anyone. For what it’s worth.”

 

Vanessa rolls over in her bed, letting the fresh pillowcase catch her tears and muffle the sob before she feels Tracy settle on the edge of the bed again. She runs her hand up and down Vanessa’s back, soothing the way her ribs tense before she can force them to release. 

 

“You know this’ll get better, babe,” Tracy says softly, her touch firm and calming but not even remotely close to the one she wants so badly. “You know this won’t last forever, you’ve just gotta get up every day and get on with it. Maybe even get back on a different horse again, eh?” 

 

The thought of someone other than her touching Charity makes her feel ill, and the idea of anyone but Charity touching her does exactly the same thing. It turns Vanessa’s stomach enough for her to need to clench her jaw to help push the wave of nausea back down. 

 

“She’s just one person, V, you’ll find someone else, one with a few less weird ties to our family once you start looking,” Tracy offers lightheartedly, and Vanessa knows that she’s trying to help but this is only making it worse. 

 

“I don’t want anyone else, though,” Vanessa says into the pillow, because the last thing she wants to do is show Tracy how thick the tears are. “I just want her. I just want that, what we had together.”

 

“I know you do, love, but I don’t think she does,” Tracy replies not unkindly but pragmatically, but it makes Vanessa’s heart ache all the same. 

 

“She does,” Vanessa says with a hiccup. “I know she does. Something’s happened. Something’s made her run, I know it. We were so good, Trace.  _ So _ good. Everything was so good, I just don’t know what changed.”

 

Tracy doesn’t say anything in return to that, she just keeps moving her hand over Vanessa’s back in circles, no longer showing any indication of leaving, as Vanessa’s blood thickens in her veins at the thought that this might be all she has, the faint reminder of Charity in her bed, and an empty space by her side that not even her family can fill. 

 

And she knows how ridiculous all this is - the week in bed, the constant tears - but she’s never felt anything this crushing before, she’s never felt anything this overwhelmingly awful, because it’s all suffocating; the idea that she won’t get to grow old next to Charity, that they won’t get to watch the boys grow up together, that she won’t get to wake up to Charity’s surprisingly chipper morning smile every day. It’s just deafening, all of it, and she hasn’t even  _ seen _ Charity yet. 

 

“I don’t want anybody else, Tracy,” Vanessa says to herself more than anyone else in the room, save Charity’s ghost maybe. “I don’t want anything else. I just want her.”

  
  


-

  
  


She’s surprised by the force of Noah’s hug when he walks through the door, his arms strong with the wiry strength of teenage youth, and Vanessa relaxes into him more firmly than she has done to Tracy over the last few days because Charity’s perfume still clings to the wool of his school jumper. 

 

“Missed you, you know,” Vanessa says when they finally part. “Nobody’s eating all the good food before I can get to it.”

 

He gives her a wry smile before walking straight into the kitchen, pulling a bottle of specially purchased fizz from the fridge and a packet of crisps from the pantry before flopping down on the couch and reaching for the remote. 

 

It gives Moses a chance to throw himself into her arms, his little hands fisting into the back of her jumper as he rubs his face into her neck. It’s soul-lightening, the easy affection of children sometimes, and Vanessa allows herself the moment to indulge the sigh in her lungs before he pulls away too. 

 

“Did you miss me?” he asks brightly when Vanessa smoothes down his rumpled jacket, helping him out of it when he starts pulling at the buttons with small clumsy hands. 

 

“Course I did, love,” Vanessa answers easily, smiling at the messy collection of clothes he’s wearing. “Especially that dinosaur shirt.”

 

“S’good,” he grins, patting her cheek happily. “Mummy thought you’d like it too.”

 

It’s like a sharp slap across the face, the casual mention of Charity, and Vanessa clams up immediately. 

 

“Ness?” Moses asks when the smile drops clean off Vanessa’s face. He puts his little palm up to her forehead, something Vanessa knows he does because he’s seen her to it to Charity when she’s sick. His touch is hot, he runs like a fire engine most of the time, just like his mother does. “Ness,” he asks again, “you okay?” 

 

“Sorry, love,” she says quickly, shaking a completely fake smile across her face. “Just had a thought, didn’t I?” she breezes, pressing a quick kiss to the end of his nose. “About how much I love that little dinosaur.” She brushes his hair out of his eyes, tickling his cheeks until he squeals in pleasure. 

 

He beams before turning and crawling up Noah’s legs in search of the chip packet he can obviously hear rustling in his hands. Vanessa’s throat thickens as she watches Noah lift him patiently into the side of the patchwork chair, followed almost immediately by Johnny, until the three of them are crammed in and glued to whenever Noah’s chosen on the telly. 

 

It hurts, the reminder of how easily they’ve become a family, of how big the hole of Charity’s absence is when the rest of them are here, and Tracy must half-feel her despair because she crosses the room quickly, threading her arm through Vanessa’s. 

 

“Thanks for bringing them over,” Vanessa says to her, to which Tracy shakes her head dismissively before answering. 

 

“Anytime, V,” she says with a soft sideways smile. “Although, if this becomes a regular thing, you might need to think about how this is actually going to work with the two of you.”

 

“I know,” Vanessa sighs before she hears Johnny mumble something like  _ can I have the last one,  _ extricating herself from Tracy’s side briefly. She pulls another couple of small packets of crisps out so she can throw them to Noah who stuffs one behind his back and opens the other, not bothering with a thanks to her, just pulling the mouth of the bag wide enough for the boys to dive in at the same time. 

 

She and Tracy dither away the afternoon chatting while the boys watch telly, and she knows she could disrupt them and actually talk to them but there’s something heartwarming in the ease with which they all find themselves at home here that she’s loath to disrupt. 

 

There’s a knock on the door just after five, and the relaxed state that Vanessa’s found over the course of the afternoon dissipates instantly at the realisation of who’s likely behind that door. 

 

“I’ll get it if you want?” Tracy asks when none of the boys show signs of moving. “You can go upstairs if….”

 

“I’ll stay,” Vanessa replies, tensing her stomach and trying to fight back the cold dread she can feel seeping into her bones, “but can you get it? The door?”

 

Tracy’s up and out of her chair quicker than Vanessa can ask her anything else, but it still feels like the longest five seconds of her life as she crosses the living room. She closes her eyes for a moment, trying to gather as much mental strength as she can to not burst into tears upon sight of Charity, but she needn’t have bothered, because it’s not even her there when Tracy pulls the door back.

 

It’s a slightly aggravated Ross instead. “Charity’s stuck at the pub,” he says by way of an explanation, throwing a glance to the boys all crammed into the chair. “She asked if I’d come and get this lot to save you having to bring them over.”

 

“That’s thoughtful of her,” Tracy says with a scoff, to which Ross laughs in agreement. 

 

Vanessa suppresses the urge to elbow Tracy in the side, because Charity’s not always selfish, she’s surprisingly thoughtful when she wants to be, but she falters, because she’s not certain that she’s supposed to come to Charity’s aid like that anymore. 

 

“Yeah, I think that good-will stuff only extends to your sister though,” Ross grumbles, screwing his face up in a frown. “She wouldn’t give me my pint until I said I’d come and get them.”

 

“Alright, boys,” Vanessa says, clearing her throat, and all three of them look to her like little owls. “Time to go home.”

 

“But this is home, too?” Moses asks Noah, wiping his salty hands on Noah’s jumper, but Noah just frowns in reply, picking one of them up in each arm and standing. 

 

“Let’s just go, mate,” Noah says instead, expertly dodging the question. There’s so much of Charity in him sometimes that it makes Vanessa do a double take. 

 

Distracted with that thought, it takes Vanessa a moment to realise that Johnny’s readying himself to leave too. She moves forward to stop him, but Noah beats her to it, halting him with a gentle hand on his shoulder. 

 

“You’ve got to stay and look after Ness,” he explains to Johnny slowly and quietly, so the three adults can barely hear him. “While we go and look after mum, remember. Like we talked about?”

 

Vanessa feels herself pale at his words. She hadn’t realised she and Tracy had been deep enough in conversation to miss something like that being said, but Noah is his mother’s son in more ways than one, so it doesn’t really surprise her that the three of them have managed to come up with a masterplan during their time together. 

 

Ross gives Noah a slightly odd look when he ducks under his arm as he holds the door open, but he doesn’t say anything, just reaches down to scoop Moses up into his arms instead. 

 

“You coming for a drink?” he asks Tracy specifically, casually but not so casually at the same time. 

 

She looks to Vanessa briefly for an okay before nodding with a small smile, and Vanessa wonders when she missed that too. 

 

“Yeah,” Tracy replies with slightly pink cheeks. “I’ll see you in a bit?”

 

He nods gruffly before turning away and closing the door behind him, and Vanessa’s only brought out of her trance of staring at the door by Johnny tugging on her trousers. 

 

“You sure you’ll be alright?” Tracy asks her as Johnny fists his hands in her hair. “Because I can stay here if you want the company? Or you could tag along?”

 

“No,” Vanessa replies quickly, shaking her head. “No, you go on, love, I’ll be fine here. Have fun, yeah?”

 

“You could come with us next time if you wanted?” Tracy offers carefully, watching Vanessa’s face as she speaks. “Might be good to see her the first time with a whole lot of us there?” 

 

“Maybe,” Vanessa replies, with absolutely no commitment to the decision in her voice at all. 

 

“You’ve gotta leave this house eventually, V,” Tracy sighs. “You can’t stay here forever. Sooner or later you’re going to need to start living again.”

 

“Yes, I know that, thank you,” Vanessa half snaps in response. 

 

She’s been patient so far, with the pitying looks and the sad smiles that have constantly come her way, but she’s almost sick of it. She’s sick of people thinking they know better than her what she needs to do or not do. She knows exactly what she does need, she does. She’s just not ready to  _ do _ them. 

 

“I just don’t have to be a bull out of a gate, do I?” Vanessa says defensively, trying to flatten down her hackles. “It’s my life. I’m allowed to take my time.”

 

“Course you are, babe. Just don’t forget to actually start again, yeah?” Tracy says gently, recognising Vanessa’s frustration but not quite ready to back down. “Cause you’re a flamin’ catch, and if Charity can’t see that, someone else bloody well will.”

  
  


-


	3. Three; Charity.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She’s sick to death of Chas being so blase about all of this like it’s hers to talk about. It’s not. It’s theirs. Her’s and Vanessa’s. And no one else’s. Despite what the rest of the bloody village thinks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've done a re-jig of the chapters and added a couple of bits, so this will be split into seven chapters now, not five, just in case anyone picks up on the change. 
> 
> Also, I maybe should have specified at the beginning, this kind of diverts from canon before they move in together because I thought it would be just a little more painful before they'd properly settled into a life together, but where Charity had a taste of it. And I don't think Frank's words would have had as much of an impact on her post-engagement or moving in. Hopefully that makes sense!

-

 

_ Take it back; this heart. I don't want it anymore.  _

 

-

  
  


“Did I hear that correctly?” Chas hisses to Charity, pulling her to the side when the bloke she just pulled a pint for takes a few steps back towards his table. “Did you just turn down a date?”

 

“I don’t think it was a date he wanted as much a quickie out by the bins, babe,” Charity replies with an eye roll. She yanks her arm out of Chas’s grip, trying to ignore the stupid expression on her face that looks an awful lot like smugness. 

 

“And since when has that been a problem?” Chas frowns. “I thought that was even better, no strings or whatever?”

 

“Yeah, well, maybe that’s not what I want at the moment,” Charity says, her attempt at cavalier falling flat at Chas’s feet, she thinks. 

 

“And do you want then?” Chas asks her with a glare. “Might as well try and pry it out of you now, because you’ve weaselled out of every other conversation I’ve tried to have with you over the last two weeks since you gave Vanessa the flick.”

 

“Can you stop saying I gave her the flick?” Charity snaps back, because she’s sick to death of Chas being so blase about all of this like it’s hers to talk about. It’s not. It’s theirs. Her’s and Vanessa’s. And no one else’s. Despite what the rest of the bloody village thinks. 

 

“Does this reluctance to shack up with someone have anything to do with said perky blonde, then?” Chas asks perceptively, raising an eyebrow at Charity. 

 

“No, I just don’t… it’s not fair to flout something in front of her face so early, is it?” Charity says, shrugging and turning away, wincing herself about how ridiculously uncharacteristic that sounds to her own ears. 

 

“Never worried you before that, has it?” Chas replies smoothly, following Charity down to the other end of the bar. “In fact, I seem to remember you faking having it off with that bloke the last time you two had a wobble. Didn’t care about it then, did you?”

 

“That was different, wasn’t it,” Charity spits defensively. She drops down and pretends to look for something on the bottom shelf in the unsuccessful hope that the moment of procrastination will send Chas away. 

 

“Why? Because she was the one making the mistake, and now it’s you?” Chas asks, blocking Charity’s path when she stands with a huff and tries to push past her.

 

“I don’t need to hear that I’ve made a mistake from anyone else, thanks,” Charity snaps, gesturing rudely for Chas to move. “My son and Tracy and everyone in this flamin’ village are more than enough, eh. Don’t need you constantly harping on about it, too.”

 

“Look, love, I just don’t understand,” Chas replies with a sigh, throwing her arms in the air. 

 

Charity ducks beneath them quickly, snapping up her chance for freedom. “And you don’t need to,” Charity says, taking a few steps away from Chas like the distance will give her the quiet she so desperately craves. 

 

“The thing is though,” Chas says with a frown as she advances in spite of Charity’s scowl, staring resolutely at her, “I actually do, because whether you want to think about it or not, other people around you matter, and this foul mood you’ve been in for the last two weeks is impacting us all.” She folds her arms across her chest, fixing her crossest expression on her face. “So either pull your head in and fix it, or pull your head in and get over it.”

 

Chas leaves her with a glare to serve someone at the end of the bar, and it makes Charity feel sick, Chas’s suggestion, because she knows that Chas is right. Charity can’t wallow around in misery like this for much longer or Chas is going to start thumping her every time she loses her patience or throws a dirty look at someone. 

 

The thing is though, Charity doesn’t  _ want _ to get over it, or move on. She has absolutely no interest in shagging her broken heart away either because nobody at first glance is as good looking as Vanessa is, and even if they don’t turn their nose up at the sight of her, they’re not likely to give her a run for anything in the sack like Vanessa could, so what’s the bloody point. 

 

She doesn’t want to think about the future. She doesn’t want to think more about the fact that the only desirable outcome for her at the moment is spinsterhood because that’s about as pathetic as she feels at present, but she just can’t stomach the idea of anyone in Vanessa’s place. 

 

It’s a problem that’s only entirely compounded by the fact that this is something she has the complete power to try and change. 

 

Something that she wants very much at this point, to do just that with, to change everything and take it all back and fall at Vanessa’s feet and beg her to take her back, even though she knows she’s well past the point of no return, two weeks down the track. 

 

She’s seen Vanessa a few times now, twice huddled in the corner of the pub with Tracy and her father, or Ross of all people. She’s even given her a couple of half-smiles weakly returned, but that’s only served to test and dent her resolve more than anything else has because it’s just given her a wonderful reminder of everything she’s given up. 

 

Even with all of that though, with what her stupid heart so desperately wants, she still thinks that what she did was the right thing. 

 

Because she sees them all, Vanessa and her lot, talking about the nonsense they always thought she didn’t understand, laughing and chatting in a way that she can’t ever imagine fitting into. She made it work when she was in the middle of it for Vanessa, she  _ tried _ for Vanessa, but it was never natural. Vanessa became a part of her family seamlessly, but the reverse was always a messy, painful, pushing-shit-uphill, struggle. 

 

They’re not far off closing tonight and she hasn’t seen hide nor hair of any of Vanessa’s support group all day, and just when she thinks she’s off the hook for the evening, she and Tracy and Rhona come bursting through the door about an hour before she’s due to shut shop.

 

There are a few other regulars in the corner, no longer drinking only chatting the evening away, so other than them, they’re really the only other punters. 

 

“I thought Chas was on tonight?” Tracy asks, screwing her face up when she sees Charity, to which Charity scowls rudely in reply. 

 

She catches sight of Vanessa behind Tracy’s frame, her arms linked with Rhona’s, a dark sheer blouse with a plunging neckline visible beneath her leather jacket - new, Charity notes with a stab to the chest - and heavy black eye makeup to match Tracy and Rhona’s. 

 

“She’s gone upstairs crook, so you’re stuck with me, aren’t you,” Charity replies as coolly as she can manage, trying to keep the waver out of her voice. Her eyes follow Vanessa into the booth, sliding over the leather to allow Rhona to pour in next to her while Tracy approaches the bar. “What’s this then, eh?” Charity asks, throwing a gesture over Tracy’s shoulder, “girls night out?”

 

“Not going to make a scene, are you?” Tracy asks evenly, leaning close to Charity over the bar. “Because it took that bloody long to drag her out of the house, I’ll kill you if you do something that sends her back into it.”

 

“Wouldn’t dream of it, babe,” Charity says through gritted teeth, her eyes flicking from Tracy’s to Vanessa’s, her heart stopping when she catches Vanessa looking straight at her. “Couldn’t just go straight onto town though, could you?”

 

“We thought Chas would be here,” Tracy replies tightly before she rolls her eyes. “You know what, one shot and then we’ll be off, alright?” 

 

She slaps a twenty quid note on the bar, waiting for Charity to pour three measures of tequila, Vanessa’s favourite, she knows, before Tracy scowls and stomps back over to their booth. Vanessa pales when she smells the tequila in the glasses, but she doesn’t look up at Charity before she takes the shot, nor after either. 

 

“Right, come on then,” Tracy says, throwing a cautionary look at Charity, as if expecting her to say something brash or rude, but she doesn’t say a thing, she just watches Vanessa climb out of the booth with her head down, ardently ignoring Charity until she gets to the door. 

 

It’s only then that Vanessa properly looks at her, not the fleeting two-second glances she’s been giving Charity the last week or so, but  _ properly _ looks at her, and Charity comes face to face for the first time with the damage that she’s done. Because Vanessa looks gorgeous but she looks tired too, like she’s exhausted almost every inch of her energy holding herself together and she’s surprised to find herself standing upright. 

 

She hopes that Vanessa looks too though, she hopes that Vanessa can see past the extra layer of makeup to cover the bags under her eyes; the way her back isn’t as straight as it normally is, and the way she looks like she’s missing something. 

 

“Ness,” Rhona says softly, and Vanessa breaks the link formed between their gaze, because it’s not just a few seconds they’ve been staring at one another, it’s a good thirty seconds. 

 

The connection shatters regardless though, Vanessa’s hand dropping from the door as she follows the others out. She gives Charity one last quick glance and Charity smiles sadly in return, berating herself the second the pub door slams behind them, rolling her eyes at her own weakness. A lifetime of struggling against the power of men around her, and the thing that finally does her in, is this. 

 

_ Brilliant _ , she thinks sharply, cursing as she kicks the corner of the bar with her toe and feels the sharp spike of pain up her leg.  _ Bloody brilliant _ . 

 

-

  
  


It’s a week later before she lays eyes on Vanessa again, and she knows it’s something she’s most definitely not supposed to see. 

 

It’s pure happenstance that she comes across it at all really, because she should be working, only she twinged something in her back lifting a crate in the cellar the night before and after a day of standing still the niggle in her muscles is driving her mad. It’s bad enough to announce that she’s going for a walk around the street for five minutes while she contemplates hunting for the good painkillers upstairs, not waiting for Chas’s answer before she walks out the back. 

 

Dark is starting to creep over the street but there’s a light on outside Tug Ghyll and it draws Charity’s attention easily until she sets her eye on something she wishes she hadn’t seen at all. 

 

Tracy’s standing at the door of Tug Ghyll holding Johnny on her hip, almost too big for it now, waving goodbye to Vanessa who’s about to get in a car with a woman Charity’s never seen before. 

 

She’s the complete juxtaposition to Charity save her height; dark hair and bright eyes and a brilliant smile, immaculately dressed as she holds the door open for Vanessa, giving Johnny and Tracy a quick wave before getting in the driver’s door. 

 

Charity knows she needs to move, that she needs to take her racing heart and frozen-in-place-hurt away now before anyone else can see her, but she can’t make herself shift. Her feet stay weighted to the cobbled pavement until the car pulls out and they, the two of them, this woman and Vanessa, drive away. 

 

There’s nothing between her and Tracy once the car’s gone and Charity’s eyes find hers for a moment before she turns quickly, because the look of quick pity that crosses Tracy’s face is enough to make her lip curl. 

 

The ache in her back is worse now, the walk tightening it, not easing it, and she throws every foul look she has in her repertoire at anyone who gives her even the smallest sideways glance until Chas drags her out the back bodily a couple of hours later. Charity catches a flash of Tracy and Megan with Johnny just before she disappears through the doorway. 

 

“What the bleedin’ hell’s gotten under your skin, then?” Chas asks with a slightly threatening tone. “I’m warning you, Charity, it had better be something good, or I’ll bar you from your own bloody pub for being such a bad landlady.”

 

“None of your business,” Charity says evenly, trying to push past Chas when a set of hands on her shoulders stops her. 

 

“Vanessa, then, is it,” Chas replies with a rhetorical scowl, dropping her hands from Charity. “What’s happened now? Did she look at you? Because she might do that from time to time, you know, given you live in the same village with an approximate population of ten people.”

 

“I said, it’s none of your business,” Charity grits out as her throat thickens. “Now, are we going to go back to work?” she asks with a fake brightness, “or are people going to serve themselves?”

 

“We’re not going anywhere until you tell me what’s going on,” Chas says resolutely, dropping her hands onto her hips. “Because this has got to stop, alright? What did I say the other day about fixing this or moving on?” 

 

“And what did  _ I _ say about you minding your own business?” Charity snaps again. She doesn’t want to do this now, not tonight. Not unless Chas actually wants to kick off with her, which she might not mind, come to it. Throwing a punch might make her feel a hell of a lot better than she currently does. She wouldn’t even begrudge her the bruised knuckles. 

 

“ _ Charity _ ,” Chas growls, and she knows that Chas won’t give up tonight, there’s a look in her eyes that tells her that clearly. She knows she’s pushed her too far. 

 

“She’s on a bloody date with someone else, is what,” Charity says through gritted teeth. She balls her hands into fists at her sides to quell the wave of nausea at the thought of what they’re doing right this very second, probably laughing about something posh and stupid and nothing Charity’s ever done before, hissing internally when her nails bite into her palms. 

 

“She’s  _ what _ ?” Chas asks, surprise colouring her features before it drains from her face. She takes a step back like Charity’s pushed her, and it’s almost satisfying; that Vanessa’s moving on seems to shock her too. 

 

“On. A. Date,” Charity enunciates for her, her blood cooling with every word. “With another woman. A remarkably fit one at that. One with a flash car and big smile and-“

 

“Isn’t this what you wanted?” Chas interrupts her, holding her hand up to Charity, shaking her head in confusion. “For her to move on and find someone else?”

 

Charity rolls her eyes heavily and suppresses the urge to lash out instantly, because Chas is right, damn her to hell; of course that’s what she wanted. In theory. But the reality of seeing Vanessa with someone else, moving on, it’s too much. It’s  _ far _ too much. 

 

She turns away from Chas, rubbing at her face roughly before snatching one of the stray bottles of amber liquid within reach on one of the stock shelves and taking a heavy swig. 

 

“Look, I know it’s hardly pleasant,” Chas says softly. Her whole demeanour changes and she takes a few steps towards her, placing a consoling hand on Charity’s back, “but you’ve made your bed, love. You wanted her to move on, and she has.”

 

Charity hates the pity in her voice as much as she hated the look in Tracy’s eyes. She wants to turn and say,  _ but it’s not even been a month _ , or something equally pathetic but it’s irrelevant because it is what she wanted, or at least what she thought she wanted. She’s sure this new bird is about a million times better than her; less damaged and not at all broken, no baggage or skeletons in her closet, that she’s the kind of person Vanessa deserves. It is what she wanted, what she thought she wanted, but she doesn’t know how on earth to cope with it now that the horrible, sickening, lonely reality of it, is here. 

 

She opens her mouth to say something in response to Chas when Tracy appears from around the back of the bar. She catches Charity’s eye, hesitating for a second before she keeps walking towards them.

 

Charity throws her hands up in exasperation. “Oh good, it’s a bloody party now, is it?” she says with a sharp laugh, but Tracy ignores her, looking directly to Chas. 

 

“Is she alright?” Tracy asks her, setting her hands on her hips, a movement that Chas mirrors when she replies. 

 

“You tell me, seeings as your flamin’ sister seems to have set her off again,” Chas says with an accusatory sigh, and Charity can’t help but smile at the Dingle-knack of immediate aggression to anyone not family, even when they’re in the middle of their own argument. 

 

“Yeah, and who’s fault is that to begin with, eh?” Tracy asks, a higher than usual pitch to her voice as she points at Charity. “It’s hers!”

 

“Watch it, kid,” Chas says sharply, pointing one of her fingers right back at Tracy. “I’m sure Vanessa’s not entirely blameless in this. This one's stupid, but I’m not buying that nothing happened to prompt this whole damn mess.”

 

“Think what you like, but Vanessa’s allowed to move on,” Tracy replies to them both, visibly trying to calm herself now. “Just because Charity hasn’t, doesn’t mean she can’t.”

 

“And I’m sure once she does, and the dust settles, we’ll all be unhappy families in the village again, but until then-“ Chas starts with a huff before Charity cuts her off. 

 

“Look, I’ve told you already, I’m not doing nowt with nobody, and I don’t intent to,” Charity interrupts her, glaring at them both. “And Vanessa’s allowed to do as she bloody-well pleases, I’d just rather not see it. Is that illegal?”

 

“And why, pray-tell, do you not want to see the thing that you told her you wanted for her?” Tracy asks with a raised eyebrow. “Because you still love her? Tell you what, it’d be bleedin’ lovely if you could tell her that, and put this whole thing to bed. Literally, for all I care. Anything to stop this perpetual foul mood the both of you are in.”

 

“I can’t do that,” Charity says shortly, crossing her arms over her chest to hide the tremble in her hands. 

 

“Can’t,” Tracy notes perceptively, narrowing her eye. “Not that you don’t love her.”

 

“Course I still love her,” Charity hisses, throwing her arms up in exasperation. “Is that what you both wanted to hear? That I’m absolutely miserable and it’s all my own making, but I still thought it was for the best because I’m not good for her.”

 

They hear a floor-board creak with the unmistakable sound of an adult weight on it and the three of them all spin around in unison to catch it. They don’t see anything though, and whoever it was is gone well before Charity can catch sight of them. It seems to conclude or at least pause the argument though, so they all file back out to the bar in search of it, and it’s only then that Charity catches a flash of blonde hair as Vanessa pulls the door shut quickly behind her. 

 

“Brilliant,” Charity deadpans, levelling the both of them with a filthy scowl. “Do you think she heard all of that, then?” 

 

Tracy glares at her but she’s already moving around the bar away from Charity and Chas, throwing Megan and Johnny a quick word before following Vanessa out the door. Charity hazards a glance at Megan, who’s trying to keep a hold of a wriggling Johnny, eager to follow Vanessa and Tracy in what he seems to think is some sort of game. 

 

“How do you manage to be such a wrecking ball  _ all _ the bloody time?” Chas asks with an exhausted sigh. “Is it something you practice, does Jane Fonda have an at-home video about it, or does it just come naturally?”

 

Charity ignores her, pouring herself a healthy glass of wine and drinking a third of it in one gulp before Chas manages to wrestle it out of her hands. 

 

“Are you going to go after them?” Chas asks incredulously, gesturing to the now departed Tracy and Vanessa. 

 

“What’s the point?” Charity snaps back, “not like I can run back into her arms, is it? Besides, I’ve told you, Chas. I can’t, even if I wanted to.”

 

“Yes, you can,” Chas throws at her. “I don’t know what this stubbornness is, this stupid misplaced honour that you’ve never had before, but you bloody can. You’re just choosing not to.”

 

“You make it sound like it’s the easiest flamin’ thing in the world,” Charity replies, stamping her foot. It’s childish, but she’s so far beyond caring. “You seem to be forgetting that I’m not exactly a good prospect, babe. Why would she? ‘Specially not when she’s seen the alternative, tonight. She’s probably trying to forget my name as we speak, just popped her head in to make sure I knew they were back at home together and not still out at dinner. Or maybe they needed another bottle of wine, eh? Smooth the passage and all that.”

 

Anger is easier than sadness, or self pity. She learned that long enough ago to forget when it was exactly, or who she learned it from, and it’s not a bandaid, but it’ll help cauterise the wound for now. For long enough that she can finish here and swipe a bottle and drink herself into a stupor in bed. Her bed, now. Not their bed. And not Vanessa’s bed, where she’s almost certainly not alone. 

 

“Charity, just stop would you?” Chas says with a sigh. “She loves you, for whatever stupid reason,  _ that’s _ why, you fool. So pull your head out of your arse and do something about it, or let her go. For god’s sake pick one, because I’m sick to death of this and I know everyone else is too.”

 

Chas is always annoyed with her. It’s a natural function of their relationship by now, but she’s not often this angry, and Charity can see how thin a line she’s treading in the tension held across Chas’s shoulders when she storms off without another word. 

 

She’s good at that, actually, at being able to see where people's lines are, and she’s normally very good at stomping all over them regardless of what’s at that line, but the small self-preservation part in her brain is telling her to watch it here. Because for all their snide remarks, Chas is her friend, her  _ only _ friend if she really thinks about it now that Vanessa’s gone, and Charity’s about as self-destructive as they come but pushing Chas away might just be a step too far.

 

Even for her. 

 

-

  
  


She hates how lonely she is without Vanessa in her bed. 

 

She hates how cavernous the room feels without her laugh and her stupid pre-bed routine of moisturising every inch of the skin that Charity’s dying to run her hands over, before she can reach for her and yank her into the mess of covers and kiss her until she gasps for mercy. 

 

She hates how it feels like the light’s gone out of everything. She hates most of all that the people in her life; Frank, Bails, Cain, Declan, Zoe, Chris, her father, the men who used to pay her, everyone who told her she wasn’t worthy of love, were bloody right. 

 

She hates that it was fine before Vanessa, her life, that this shadow she’s living in now was enough. It was more than enough, even; she actually thought she was thriving in it. She hates Vanessa for showing her that there was something better. She hates herself for thinking she actually deserved to hold onto it after she’d seen what it tasted like. 

 

She hates that she thinks of Vanessa constantly, that she can visualise what she’s doing at any given time of the day because she spent time learning and memorising her routine. She hates that Vanessa’s probably not thinking about her at all now, not anymore. 

 

She hates that she’s in this mess to begin with, because love is grand, sure, but the hollowed-out dip next to her in the bed is torture. She hates how she just can’t get warm, she hates how much it hurts, and it wouldn’t, it  _ wouldn’t _ , if she’d never been shown what true love was actually like in the first place. 

 

-


	4. Four; Charity.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “We need to talk,” is all Vanessa says but it makes Charity’s heart swoop in her chest, because it’s the first time Vanessa’s actually spoken to her without a prompt or to ask for a drink in almost a month.

-

 

_ God, this is hard. And I'm so tired. _

 

-

 

It’s another week before Vanessa shows her face in the pub. This time it’s without the whole entourage, just with Frank, the sight of who fills Charity with a white-hot anger enough to make her crush the little cardboard placemat she’s playing with into an indistinguishable pulp. 

 

Chas manages to intercept Frank before he can make a beeline towards Charity but it’s not quite so easy to interrupt Vanessa’s path. Charity is expecting Vanessa to slide into one of the seats at the far end of the bar or into a booth like she normally does but she doesn’t, she makes a straight track for her instead. 

 

“We need to talk,” is all Vanessa says but it makes Charity’s heart swoop in her chest, because it’s the first time Vanessa’s actually spoken to her without a prompt or to ask for a drink in almost a month. 

 

“Are the boys alright?” Charity asks quickly, her eyes flicking over Vanessa for any clue or sign, because there can’t really be any other reason for Vanessa wanting to talk to her this directly. 

 

“They’re fine,” Vanessa replies, shaking her head. 

 

Charity’s stomach drops because if this isn’t about  _ them _ , then… 

 

Vanessa’s voice brings her back. “It’s not about them,” she says bluntly. “We just need to talk.”

 

“Look, Ness-” Charity says feeling slightly panicked. She feels like a coward for the reaction but she’s not ready to be alone with Vanessa, especially if it’s because she wants to tell her privately and in person that she’s now seeing that bird from the other night. “It’s not that I don’t want to, yeah,” she stammers, looking for a way out, “but I’m working and-“

 

“I won’t take long,” Vanessa returns, like she’s practised this speech a thousand times. 

 

It’s strange to talk to her like this, like she’s an almost stranger, and not the person Charity’s been pining after for the better part of a year and a half now. Charity looks over her shoulder to Chas and Frank. The former gives her an  _ alright, go on _ nod while Frank’s face is carefully neutral, so Charity shoots him a glare before turning back to Vanessa and gesturing for her to walk behind the bar.

 

It feels odd to fall back into step like this, walking this little track they’ve done hundreds of times before now. It makes Charity smile when she’s reminded, in person and not just in memory, of how Vanessa takes two quick efficient steps to her every one before she stops just short of the door through to the house. 

 

“I don’t know what this is about, Ness, but before you say anything will you let me say that I’m sorry,” Charity says in a rush the second Vanessa turns around. 

 

As the words come out of her mouth she realises that she’s never given an apology to anyone and meant it before she started offering them to Vanessa, but she means this now, and it’ll serve to put off whatever it is that Vanessa wants to say to her a moment longer. 

 

“About not answering your calls and that,” she clarifies, “it’s not that I was ignoring you, I just thought it would be better not to hear my stupid voice.”

 

“This… it’s not about hearing your apology,” Vanessa says slowly, and it’s dark here in the hallway but Charity can see how blue her eyes are regardless, like she’s already on the verge of tears. 

 

She takes a deep breath as though steeling herself to say something difficult, and Charity feels her knees weaken in anticipation of the real, true, final beginning of the end.

 

“Did you mean what you said the other day?” Vanessa asks nervously, instead of saying the  _ there’s something I need to tell you  _ that Charity’s expecting.

 

She wrings her hands tightly before she finally looks up and meets Charity’s eye. “Did you mean it?” Vanessa asks again, like the weight of the world is on her shoulders. “When you said you still love me?”

 

The bluntness of Vanessa’s question takes her back although she supposes it shouldn’t. Vanessa’s never really been one to beat around the bush, after all. 

 

“Ness,” Charity sighs, the word almost unfamiliar as it falls from her lips, because it feels like it’s been weeks since she’s said it. “You weren’t meant to hear that.”

 

Charity shifts from foot to foot, pinching the soft skin of her underarms when she crosses them over her chest, delaying, because she really doesn’t want to do this. She doesn’t want to have to defend this decision and that bloody moment of weakness to Vanessa, too. 

 

“It’s not a difficult question, Charity,” Vanessa says evenly, her breathing carefully rhythmic. “Either you do, or you don’t. I’m not trying to make this hard for you.”

 

Charity considers lying and saying no, because if she really meant all of this, that she wants Vanessa to move on and forget her, that’s the right thing to do. It’s certainly the most effective route to take if she truly wants to push Vanessa away. She could try and summon her very,  _ very _ best lie, like her life depended on it, but she thinks that Vanessa would still probably see right through it like she had an enormous blinking sign about her head, because, damn her, she knows Charity  _ far _ too well by now. 

 

“Course I still love you, babe,” Charity answers in a heavy rush, her whole body suddenly dropping the weight of carrying that around for the last month. 

 

Vanessa releases a shaky breath out as she takes in Charity’s admission, her eyes dropping to their feet, and Charity’s almost certain in that moment, given the blank look on her face and the pink in her cheeks, that Vanessa had been expecting a very different answer.

 

“And do you still…” Vanessa starts, and then falters before she looks up, meeting Charity dead in the eye. “Do you want to come home?”

 

“Babe, this really isn’t about what I want, yeah?” Charity almost whines. “I’m trying to-“

 

“Do you want to come home, Charity?” Vanessa asks again. She looks exhausted up close; gorgeous but broken. Like she’s fading. Like all of this is just too hard. 

 

It’s all well and good trying to be strong when Vanessa’s on the other side of the village, but it’s an entirely different story when she’s right here and blue-eyed and fractured. 

 

Charity clenches her fist in some last-ditch attempt at self-control. “Ness,” she says warningly. 

 

“I want you to come home,” Vanessa says, firmer this time, taking a step closer as she does so. 

 

Charity suppresses the urge to take a step back in response, even though it’s a disaster waiting to happen, having Vanessa this close, because she thinks that might push Vanessa away quicker than just telling her to go. She has to suppress the urge to step forward too, fighting the desperate desire to be closer to Vanessa after so long, the want drawing her like a magnet, when there’s so much emotional space between them still. 

 

“Whatever it is, whatever it was that made you do this, or want to do this, we can fix it,” Vanessa says steadily, and she does reach for Charity’s hand then almost like she knows how much Charity positively craves the contact. She intertwines their fingers together, locking them with a squeeze, and Charity feels her whole body sigh with the relief of it like in some stupid romantic sob story of a film. “If there’s something that’s not quite right,” Vanessa breathes as her eyes water, “we can do something, alright, we can-“

 

“There was never anything wrong, Ness, it was all me. It  _ is _ all me,” Charity replies, squeezing her hand tight in Vanessa’s, relishing the contact because she’s not sure when she’ll get the chance to do this again. 

 

“There’s nothing wrong with you,” Vanessa says fiercely. She moves even closer, until her thigh brushes against Charity’s and one side of their hips bump together. “Not a thing, do you hear me? You’re frustrating and brash and rude and impulsive and perfect, Charity. Do you hear me? You’re perfect.”

 

“It’s all that stuff that’s the problem though, babe,” Charity returns, and it’s getting harder to push her honourable decision away now with Vanessa so close, with Vanessa touching her, reminding her of every single way they fit so well together. It’s  _ so _ hard. “I’m so wrong for you.”

 

“How can you be wrong for me when you make me as happy as you do?” Vanessa asks incredulously, tears now rolling sluggishly down her cheeks. 

 

“This is happy, is it?” Charity answers with a question, gesturing to Vanessa with her free hand. “You being miserable for a couple of months because of me? Yeah, babe, I’m great for you. This is me making you real happy.”

 

“No, this is you being a git and not letting us be happy,” Vanessa replies with a frown, wiping at her cheeks roughly. “And the second I find out why you’re acting like this is the right thing for any of us, I can tell you why it’s bloody not.”

 

“I told you, babe, it’s nothing but me coming to my senses,” Charity whines. She thinks about trying to extricate herself from Vanessa’s hand before this goes any further but it’s an impossible ask, because they fit together so neatly, even as ragged around the edges as they both are. 

 

“That’s bullshit, Charity,” Vanessa says angrily, her hand tightening in Charity’s, the movement bringing them close enough that Charity can feel a puff of air from each of Vanessa’s words against her lips. “You’re scared of something, I know it. I know you, remember. I’m not someone you shagged for a few months. I care about you, and I-“

 

It would be so easy to lean forward and kiss her, it would be so easy to make all of this go away, to give in and beg Vanessa to take her back, to renege on the only morally-highbrow thing she’s ever tried to do and indulge in this thing that she knows is so good for her, even if it’s terrible for Vanessa. To let herself be happy for  _ once  _ in her stupid, miserable life. 

 

“Vanessa, love. We have to, oh-“ 

 

Both of their heads whip around to see Frank half-leaning over the bar trying to catch Vanessa’s attention, only of course he sees more than just her. He sees the minimal amount of distance between them too, the way their hands seem almost glued together, and the way Vanessa’s other hand seems to be hovering over Charity’s hip. 

 

The look of surprise on his face tells Charity that at least this wasn’t planned and he doesn’t appear to have premeditated this little disruption. His shock seems as genuine as Vanessa’s at being interrupted, and he starts to back away immediately, offering a stilted apology. 

 

“I didn’t mean to-“ he begins with a look to Vanessa, carefully avoiding Charity’s eye. 

 

“Just give us a minute,” Vanessa says abruptly, to Charity’s surprise, who’s half expecting Vanessa to break the moment between them immediately like they’d been caught doing something they shouldn’t be.

 

She doesn’t even drop Charity’s hand though, she holds onto it resolutely instead as though the sheer force of her willpower will anchor Charity in place and keep her here. As though it’ll stop Charity from running. 

 

“We have to-“ Frank says to Vanessa but she shakes her head in annoyance, cutting him off, and Charity could kiss her for that alone. 

 

“I know, we won’t be long, alright,” Vanessa says impatiently, glaring at her father until he takes a few steps back, and the envelope of privacy wraps around them again. 

 

“Ness, I really have to get back,” Charity tries, settling for an excuse rather than something else she’ll likely regret. 

 

“This new work ethic of yours is a right pain, you know,” Vanessa says, rolling her eyes. “You can’t give me another minute?”

 

“Of course I can,” Charity replies with a sigh, as Vanessa rubs her thumb over Charity’s knuckles. “You can have all the time in the world, can’t you. Not that it matters,” Charity adds grumpily, “I expect you’d just take it anyway if I didn’t offer it forthright.”

 

“Not if you didn’t want to give it,” Vanessa returns, that sad look back in her eyes again, the one that makes Charity’s stomach roll with guilt. 

 

“Yeah, well I do and all,” Charity says with a huff, because there’s no point in not telling the truth when Vanessa’s this close. She’s Charity’s human lie detector, as well as everything else. “But-“

 

“No more excuses,” Vanessa interrupts her, shaking her head and pulling on Charity’s hand. “Please, Charity, just think about it, alright? Come home. We can sort everything else out when you’re there.”

 

Charity’s resolve wavers dangerously when Vanessa leans up on her tiptoes to press a kiss to her cheek and whisper another quick  _ please _ ,  _ think about it _ , into her ear, and her traitorous body positively glows at the touch of Vanessa’s lips. 

 

Her arms wrap around Charity’s biceps when she disentangles their fingers too and Charity feels herself tense against Vanessa’s hold, testing it, trying to assure herself that it’s real and not some figment of her damaged imagination, that she hasn’t slipped in the bar and hit her head and this is all just a dream. 

 

Vanessa’s grip tightens around her arms like a response and answer, and she looks lighter when she takes a few steps away from Charity, as though maybe she’s made some progress, and the warmth of Charity’s heart tells her that she very well may have too. Until Charity catches the look on Frank’s face when Vanessa turns to wave a half-goodbye to Chas. 

 

He doesn’t look angry, she knows he wouldn’t risk anything like that with Vanessa so close, but he looks… worried. Like he might possibly have understood the importance of what had just happened between them. He doesn’t say anything to Charity, he barely even spares her another glance, only drapes his arm around Vanessa’s shoulders as they walk towards the door instead. 

 

It’s with a supreme pleasure to Charity that Vanessa turns under his arm at the last minute then, offering a final small smile to Charity before slipping through the doorway without another word. 

 

-

 

He doesn’t come to see her straight away. He gives her a day to think about all the ways in which she might actually have been wrong. A day to think about all the ways in which she might actually be good for Vanessa instead of bad. Just long enough for her to build some sense of hope before he comes to crush it and take it all away. 

 

“She’s doing better, you know,” Frank says just as she’s about to heave a massive black bag into the bins out the back. 

 

“And I’m just supposed to know who you’re talking about, am I?” Charity replies with a dismissive eye roll, settling on intentionally difficult even though she knows exactly who he’s talking about. 

 

“She’s doing much better, and I think you and I both know that she should be given a fair chance to see how she can grow like this,” Frank says, like he’s asking for the time and not something unbelievably difficult. 

 

Charity could almost be forgiven for thinking he really had his daughter’s best interest at heart, she could, almost, if she didn’t also know how much he detested her. “Here’s the thing though, Frank,” Charity says, dusting off her hands and turning to fix him with a glare. “I’m starting to think she’s actually a big enough girl to make that decision herself.”

 

She doesn’t intend on giving him any more airtime, instead reaching for the other bag she dragged outside that she’s convinced weighs as much as she does, throwing it into the bin, surprised to find him still standing there when she turns back around. 

 

“You know she’s blinded by her feelings for you,” he says without ceremony. “She won’t ever do what’s right for her as long as she’s in love with you.”

 

“And have you ever stopped to consider that, irrespective of how much you hate me, her loving me might  _ just _ be the right thing for her?” Charity asks smartly, dropping her hands onto her hips, squeezing them into her own flesh in an attempt to curtail her building anger. “She’s quite happy with me,” she snaps, “if you hadn’t noticed.”

 

“That’s a big word for you,” he says snidely, and Charity’s had enough then, walking back inside, ignoring him completely until he makes it difficult to. “She’s happy with you until she’s not,” he hisses, “until you break her heart like this again.”

 

“Have we forgotten that this was all your idea to begin with then?” Charity replies with a bite. “That it was you who came to me and guilted me into making a stupid bloody decision, that I fell for, because the only person I hate more than you is myself?”

 

“I was trying to do what’s best for her,” he reasons, and for a second Charity thinks there’s some genuineness to the statement before it disappears behind his anger. 

 

“Were you, now?” Charity growls, her lip curling in fury. 

 

“Yes, I was,” he says adamantly. “Which is exactly what you were doing too until this little hiccup.”

 

“It’s not a hiccup, Frank,” Charity says, raising her voice, thankful for the loud music of the pub next door to hide the volume from her punters and Chas. “It’s…. Christ, she’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

 

“And you’re the worst thing that’s ever happened to her,” he says cruelly, the sound of his objection like a slap. 

 

It would hurt if it was the first time someone’s said something like that to her, but it’s not, so it glances off her shoulder instead and she opens her mouth to spit something back but another, even angrier voice beats her to it. 

 

“No, I’m beginning to wonder if that’s you,” Vanessa says to her father, her hand on the open back door, evidently having followed them both in from outside. “Is that true? Is that why we’ve both spent the last two months miserable?” she asks incredulously, “because you were meddling in something that has absolutely  _ nothing _ to do with you?”

 

“You’re my family, of course it has something to do with me,” Frank tries to reason, but Vanessa’s far too angry for that. 

 

“Who are you to assume what’s right for me and what’s wrong?” Vanessa growls, advancing on Frank in a way that Charity’s quite happy to stand back and watch. “ _ Who’s _ right and who’s wrong for me?”

 

“I’m your father, Vanessa,” Frank replies gently, raising his hands in supplication. 

 

“Oh, you are? Since when? You decided you needed something from someone you hadn’t done over yet?” Charity says because she can’t help herself, but Vanessa whips around to her lightening-quick. 

 

“You can shut it too, listening to that rubbish from him,” Vanessa says to her angrily. 

 

Charity can see the blush rising up Vanessa’s neck, realising the danger of her own situation alongside Frank’s. 

 

“Why didn’t you just tell me, for God’s sake,” Vanessa asks fiercely. “Instead of acting like an insecure teenager?” 

 

“Because that’s who she is, Vanessa,” Frank says, exasperated. “That’s exactly who she is. Someone too immature to understand her own feelings for you.”

 

“The last thing I’m going to do is take dating or love advice from you. I’d be better off getting it from the kids,” Vanessa says crossly before turning on him again. “I can’t believe you did this, I can’t believe I didn’t put two and two together earlier, I  _ knew _ something was wrong about all this, I just knew it.”

 

“Vanessa, please just let me explain-“ Frank tries again but Vanessa cuts him off neatly. 

 

“I’m not interested in any kind of justification when I can barely stand the sight of you,” she growls before turning to Charity too, “either of you, at the moment.”

 

“Ness,” Charity says quickly, but Vanessa’s already turning and making for the door before Charity can stop her. 

 

“I just… I need a bit of space,” she says almost apologetically to Charity before slipping out the back as quiet as she’d come in, leaving Charity and Frank staring at each other like a pair of stunned mullets. 

 

“If you’d just kept your bloody neb out,” Charity snaps, shaking her head and heading back towards the bar just as Debbie comes out to meet her.

 

“Chas sent me back,” she explains cautiously, looking between Frank and Charity with a narrowed eye. “Thought she heard you rattling on at someone. Is everything alright?”

 

“Frank was just leaving,” Charity says coldly. To his credit, he doesn’t linger at all, inclining his head towards Debbie before walking out, following in Vanessa’s footsteps. 

 

“What was that all about?” Debbie asks as they make their way back through to the pub. “I thought I heard Vanessa’s voice for a second or was I imagining that?”

 

“Not imagining it. She was here in all her tiny-furied glory,” Charity replies evenly before softening towards Debbie, “don’t worry about it, babe. Thanks for checking, yeah?”

 

“I can tell Chas that you were gone when I came out, if you want to…” Debbie offers, gesturing towards the door and Vanessa. 

 

She hasn’t told Debbie a lot of what’s been happening the last few weeks, not wanting yet another lecture from another disappointed member of the family, but she’s perceptive enough on her own to have gathered that it’s not as simple her mother just being difficult, as per usual. 

 

“You know what she’s like when she’s in a mood,” Charity returns with an attempt at a light joke that Debbie doesn’t return, holding her eye seriously. “I’ll go later,” Charity sighs in defeat, “I just… she’s more like to throw something at me if I go now, and slam the front door in my face.” 

 

“I’ll mind the boys if you want to go after tea,” Debbie offers and Charity gives her a look of surprise before Debbie rolls her eyes. “She’s good for you, mum,” Debbie says plainly. “We all know it, and I know you do too. You’ve been an idiot the last few months, so if this is your chance to fix it-“

 

“Yeah, yeah,” Charity sighs heavily, throwing Debbie a glare for good measure. “I’ll talk to her, alright? If she’s not set a line of salt around the house to stop me coming up the front path.”

 

“Thought you learnt how to break those years ago,” Debbie returns with a smirk, the likeness between them suddenly so jarring that Charity can only scoff in the face of it. 

 

It drives her mental sometimes as much as it makes her proud, just how much of her is in Debbie. Not as much as Noah, maybe, but the snark and the wit are there for sure. Charity gives her a shove that turns into her pulling Debbie into her side before she takes her place behind the bar. 

 

“She’s mad about you, mum,” Debbie whispers to her softly, her arms tight around Charity’s waist in a way that makes her feel - just for a moment anyway - like maybe she hasn’t failed entirely at this motherhood thing with her completely. She knocks her hip against Charity’s before she takes a step back, crossing her arms over her chest as she sighs deeply. “Just make sure she knows how mad you are about her too, alright?”

  
  


-


	5. Five; Charity.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charity’s hands are shaking as she knocks on the door to Tug Ghyll.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost there! This is just a little short chapter to save the others being too long, and I thought it was important for us to all have a pause at the end, characters included.

-

 

_ Where do we go from here? _

 

-

 

Charity’s hands are shaking as she knocks on the door to Tug Ghyll. 

 

She holds her breath, silently praying that it’s Vanessa who answers the door and no one else. She scolds herself for the empty hands when she drops them down to her sides, wishing she’d thought to bring something with her besides herself. 

 

_ Anything _ , she snipes internally,  _ anything _ to deflect from the fact that she’s the only thing she has to offer Vanessa. There’s no added sparkle or distraction with her, no bluff or bluster or pretence or falsehood; no, she left that at the pub on Debbie’s orders. There’s just her. Only her. For whatever that’s worth.

 

“No flowers or wine?” Vanessa asks when she pulls the door open, relief rushing through Charity when she sees an empty-looking house over Vanessa’s shoulder. “Can’t be much of an apology, this.” 

 

“Do you want me to go and get something?” Charity replies smartly, sighing and dropping her hands to her thighs so they slap loudly in the quiet stillness of the night outside.

 

“I’m joking,” Vanessa says with a small smile that makes Charity huff in frustration when she realises she’s been had. “Sorry,” Vanessa offers weakly, “I thought it would be funny, I didn’t mean to… thank you for coming, is what I should have said.”

 

“It’s alright, I suppose I deserve that, don’t I?” Charity says, shrugging. “And I probably should’ve brought something with me too. Didn’t think, as per usual, I, er….I just wanted to see you.”

 

“So you can tell me what’s good for me? Or are you just going to assume again like you both have been for the last two months?” Vanessa offers snidely, and Charity curses herself and wonders whether she should have left it another hour or so before coming over until Vanessa sighs, moving back to allow her to walk through the front door. “I’m sorry,” she adds with a grimace. “Will you come in, or have I put you off already?”

 

“Think it’ll take more than a scowl to do that, babe,” Charity winks in an attempt to lighten the stifling tension, the fabric of her coat brushing against Vanessa’s sweater when she moves past into the house. 

 

“Are you sure?” Vanessa asks her with a tight look. It’s not intentionally inflammatory, Charity doesn’t think, it’s just a genuine question. 

 

“Ouch,” Charity mutters, not sure whether to shrug off her coat just yet or leave it on. “Guess I deserved that too.”

 

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Vanessa offers in apology. She shuts the front door as slowly as she can while Charity watches on.

 

“Yeah you did, and it’s fine, Ness,” Charity says with a sigh. “I’ve been a right pillock, haven’t I. You’ve got all sorts of rights to ask stuff like that.”

 

She takes a moment to look around the house that she hasn’t stepped foot in for what feels like an age, and it feels odd because everything is almost completely the same, only with enough minute changes to remind her that she doesn’t live here anymore. The pictures on the fridge are different, there are a few new items of clothing drying that she doesn’t recognise; a bra Charity’s never seen before, just enough to make the ache for this place, to come home here and resettle herself amongst Vanessa’s things, bone-deep. 

 

“Why are you here?” Vanessa asks without much pretence, watching Charity carefully as she walks around the room, touching some of the things she recognises and some she doesn’t. 

 

“I don’t know,” Charity says, shrugging and barking out a laugh. “I think I wanted to apologise, but I’ve come without any other kind of bribery, and I know if I were you I’d probably just throw me out. I suppose I’m waiting for that to happen before I make a fool of myself and fall to my knees and beg you to forgive me.”

 

“Was that really what you were going to do?” Vanessa asks, her eyes sharp, trying to test for the lie. “Apologise?”

 

“Doesn’t quite seem like enough though, does it?” Charity questions with a wince, “just that?” 

 

“The two of you have made me feel like an utter fool; you understand that, don’t you?” Vanessa asks, her glare hard and unflinching. “An  _ utter _ fool. How could either of you assume to make a decision like that for me? You or him?”

 

“I know that this doesn’t matter, not anymore, but the problem was never you,” Charity says with as much of an apology as she can fit into words. “You were the best part of everything. It was me, just like always. It was never about taking anything away from you, that decision, it was all about me not being good enough and acting on it before you figured it out and did yourself.”

 

“Was it not enough? All the ways I told you? Did I not tell you enough how good you were?” Vanessa asks quietly, and Charity takes a step towards her, moving to take her hand before she realises that it’s not really her place anymore. 

 

That’s been the hardest part of all of this, having to watch Vanessa’s life from the outside like a spectator and not someone  _ in _ it anymore, because she knows what those inside seats are like now, how warm it is to sit next to her, to hold her hand while they fall asleep, to make Vanessa smile and laugh and tremble and moan. How cold it is on the outside. 

 

“It was brilliant, Ness. All of it was, from start to finish, even with your stupid meddling,” Charity says, flopping down onto the couch as her strength leaves her completely. “It was just a badly placed knock to a life of insecurity, what Frank said to me. Your rotten father’s fault, but mine too. I should have talked to you, of course I should have, I was just convinced you’d talk me out of it and-“

 

“Which I would have, because it’s bloody stupid,” Vanessa argues sharply, looking down at Charity now sitting. She doesn’t reach for her arm to yank her up and off the couch, though, to unsettle her from this place, and Charity takes that to be a start. She does sigh heavily though, her eyes full of frustration and disappointment. “All of this would have been avoidable if you’d just done that, Charity.”

 

“Hindsight’s twenty-twenty, innit, babe,” Charity offers with a painful shrug. She hates this, Vanessa’s ambivalence towards her. She has no idea where this places her in the grand scheme of things and all she wants is to take everything back, every last bit of the two months of hell she's just waded through. “Time machines aren’t a thing, are they?” she asks wryly, looking at Vanessa hopefully. 

 

“Time machines?” Vanessa asks with a frown, and it seems to give her the push to ask her next question, gesturing to Charity’s coat. “What happens now then? Are you just here to apologise and then leave again, or….”

 

“What’s the  _ or _ ?” Charity questions carefully, pulling a pillow into her lap so she can fuss with a loose thread. 

 

“Or, are you here to stay?” Vanessa asks flatly, and she’s trying to keep the emotion out of her voice but Charity can hear it there loud and clear regardless. She’s nervous, incredibly so, but she’s just the tiniest bit hopeful too. She takes a seat on the other end of the couch in spite of her tone though, and Charity feels her heart pick up its pace. 

 

“Is staying an option, then?” Charity asks, her eyes set on the pillow in her lap, glancing occasionally up at Vanessa so she doesn’t have to see the dismissal head-on if it comes. She can take a glancing blow instead.

 

“It’s always an option, Charity,” Vanessa says beside her, and Charity’s breath leaves in a rush, faltering on the inhale too. “It’s always been an option. It’s never  _ not  _ been an option.”

 

“Even though I’ve been an-“ Charity starts before Vanessa cuts her off, and it’s subtle but Charity catches her shuffling just an inch closer. 

 

“Absolute pillock,” Vanessa finishes for her, glaring hard at her. “Isn’t that what you said before?”

 

“Forgot about that bloody memory of yours,” Charity grumbles under her breath but it makes Vanessa laugh, and it’s quiet but it comes from somewhere deep in her chest and that makes Charity feel like she might not be right at the bottom of Vanessa’s list. 

 

“Do you want to come home?” Vanessa asks her softly.

 

Charity could see how easy it would be, how easy Vanessa would make it, irrespective of the village drama of it all. That it’s as simple as opening the door and sitting on the couch together. No pretence, no spectacle. Just them, like it’s always been. “I do, babe,” Charity says but there’s something sitting tight on her chest now they’re so close. “I do, but-“

 

“But what?” Vanessa questions tightly, and she can see her shoulders tense and her jaw set like she’s waiting for Charity to break this peace. 

 

“Will you just take the night and think about it?” Charity asks, daring to slide closer and reach for Vanessa’s hand, her fingers stroking along the fine bones in the top of her hand. “I didn’t give you the choice before, and you’ve said you want me to come home but will you please just think about it? Make sure it’s what you really want so we don’t have to be here in another twelve months when you realise my baggage is actually too much? Because I don’t think Noah’d forgive me if we split up again. I don’t think I could take it myself.”

 

“If that’s what you want me to do, then of course I will,” Vanessa replies with a little shake in her voice, her eyes darting down to their hands. “My answer will be the same though; now, in the morning, whenever you ask. You think it’s baggage, but it’s not, Charity. Not to me. And it never will be. It’s just part of who you are. All those things, they’re not just yours to try and cope with either, they’re mine to help with too.”

 

“But what do I help you with?” Charity asks with a sigh. “Because it feels so one-sided sometimes, babe, that I worry you’re going to resent the hell out of me in a few years when all that comes crashing down on us.”

 

“Do you want me to make a list?” Vanessa asks with a raised eyebrow. “Because I can. You’re supportive and you help me put up with my family, you make me laugh, you make me  _ happy _ , Charity, more than anyone else ever has. It’s the first time in my whole life that I’ve felt like I’m right where I’m supposed to be. It’s the first time I’ve felt content. That I’ve felt like I’m enough and I’m not pretending to be someone I’m not to fill a gap in someone else’s life. And that’s all on you.”

 

It’s a strange feeling, having Vanessa tell her all these things; like she’s watching the conversation from a removed distance. They take a minute to settle, to warm against her skin, and the insecure part of her wants to angrily challenge them or shake them off and deny that Vanessa truly feels like that, but she looks into Vanessa’s eyes and she knows in an instant that she means them all. 

 

“I’m also extremely good in bed,” Charity adds with a flippant wink, trying to break the tension. “Don’t forget that.”

 

Vanessa makes a loud sound in exasperation but she grabs Charity’s hand anyway, pulling her closer until Charity can wrap her arms around Vanessa’s shoulders and Vanessa’s hands slide around her lower back, her chin settling in the crook of Charity’s neck. 

 

“I’ve missed you, you know,” Vanessa inhales deeply into Charity’s body as a warm tingle walks it’s way up Charity’s spine. 

 

“I know, babe,” Charity replies simply, nuzzling the side of Vanessa’s head with her cheek. “I’ve missed you too and all.”

 

“Come home,” Vanessa says again while they’re one tangle of arms and legs, and Charity feels a spike of worry twinge in her gut before Vanessa adds, “or I’ll drag you back here myself.”

 

“Sounds promising,” Charity rumbles in reply, her voice low and rough. “Can I suggest some sort of rope or-“

 

Vanessa pinches her side lightly, tutting as she does so, but Charity feels the shiver that passes through Vanessa regardless of her dismissal, catching the way she squirms just slightly too. 

 

_ Good _ , she thinks, her fingers brushing over the goosebumps at the nape of Vanessa’s neck when she pulls back, putting some distance between them.  _ Nothing’s changed there then _ . 

 

“Are you sure you have to go?” Vanessa asks when they stand, her reluctance to let Charity leave heavy and obvious. 

 

“I’m not gonna change my mind overnight, Ness,” Charity assures her, tugging on Vanessa’s hand to bring them close again. “I just want to make sure you don’t change yours.”

 

“I’ll have a coffee at eight then, if you wouldn’t mind,” Vanessa replies smartly, her smile so smug that Charity can’t stop herself from leaning down to kiss it off her mouth. 

 

She’s never been wonderful at impulse control. Want, take, have; that’s her. She’s truly trying to be good, to hold some kind of high ground like an adult, but here is something she’s wanted every day for two months and didn’t have, looking up at her like everything might be alright again, so it’s the easiest thing in the world to push the reason to the side and kiss Vanessa so thoroughly that she makes the most delicious squeak when their lips meet. 

 

It doesn’t take Vanessa long to respond; her hands are grasping desperately for Charity’s clothes within a couple of heartbeats as Charity’s tongue slips into her mouth. Vanessa’s always been like this for her, unbelievably responsive, satisfyingly eager, and it’s a relief to find that hasn’t wavered at all. 

 

She thinks briefly about abandoning all pretence and pushing Vanessa back down onto the couch but she supposes she should probably retain some shadow of her original plan, for appearances if nothing else, grumbling internally when she peels her mouth away from Vanessa’s, smirking again at the little  _ sigh _ that escapes when she does. 

 

“Nine, that was, yeah?” Charity asks when they break, running her tongue over her bottom lip, savouring the taste of Vanessa’s chapstick and the glassiness of her eyes. 

 

“Eight, smart arse, and don’t be late,” Vanessa quips, shoving Charity gently towards the door. Vanessa doesn’t say anything when her hands linger longer than they need to on Charity’s hips, and neither does she.  

 

The cool night air hits her like a balm when she steps outside, the chill in it welcome, almost freeing. “Ness,” Charity says, turning at the end of the path to find Vanessa leaning against the door frame, looking after her. “Thanks for letting me in, yeah?”

 

“Eight,” Vanessa says in place of anything else, a wariness still present in her voice, a flash of something in her eyes that tells Charity she’s not completely won over yet. That she’ll wait until Charity’s there with a cup in her hands come the morning before she lets herself believe that this is real.

 

“Might even make it earlier if I get a smile with it,” Charity teases, trying to draw a grin out of Vanessa, and it works,  _ just _ , the corner of her lip turning up ever so slightly. 

 

Vanessa doesn’t say anything else, she just sways lightly, gripping the door for stability before Charity takes the silence as her cue to leave, turning on her heel down the path. 

 

It’s not a battle won, and she’s not sure it’s not a terrible idea, giving in and going back on what she’s spent the last month trying to fight against, but she thinks it’s progress. 

 

Of a sort. 

 

-


	6. Six; Charity.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s four in the morning and Charity is wide awake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't decided if I'll split the last chapter into two parts yet, but here's this one for now anyway. The *SPOILER ALERT* fabled reunion, part one. Enjoy.

-

 

_ I don't know where the end of the road is, not yet anyway. _

 

-

  
  


It’s four in the morning and Charity is wide awake. 

 

She’s always been an early riser when there’s something on her mind, but even for her, this is ridiculous. The sleep she has managed since falling into bed after midnight has been broken and interspersed with rushes of her and Vanessa’s kiss, of Vanessa’s hands slipping over her forearms in their haste to pull her close, of that exact sound she makes when she parts her lips for Charity’s tongue. 

 

She’s been lost in the thought of other things too, though. 

 

Of what it would feel like to be able to roll over and wake Vanessa up when she can’t sleep like this. Of droning on a bit in the shower like she’s want to do if she’s had a rubbish night at the pub as Vanessa cleans her teeth. Of dealing to the boy’s breakfasts in the morning when Vanessa’s been out half the night on a callout and can’t drag herself from the warm bed, and of the sleepy, grateful kiss she presses to Charity’s hand when she comes back up to tell her  _ it’s sorted, _ she can go back and kip for a few hours. 

 

She’s been lost in thought of the family unit she never knew she wanted but does now, of the future she started building with Vanessa before she broke it, of the stability she now craves but has always rallied against so violently, because she always thought it looked so cloying from the outside. But it’s not, on the inside. It’s safe and soft and kind; not at all the useless fairytale she always assumed it to be. 

 

She tosses and turns until the clock on the screen of her phone blinks five fifteen and she’s read every interesting gossip article and piece of current events news from the last week, finally dragging herself out of bed and into the shower. Maybe she can find a crossword she hasn’t done downstairs to pass the time until she can traipse over to Vanessa’s place. 

 

It’s almost gone six when she opens the back door to let the rush of fresh cold morning air find her skin, inhaling deeply as she does so, letting the ache of it settle in her lungs. She thinks about flopping onto the couch and letting the early news bulletin prattle on in the background for a second before the crispness of the morning wins out instead and she steps onto the cobbles in her slippers, pulling the door shut quietly behind her. 

 

The street is empty save her, so she walks out onto the main part of the road, looking down until her eyes find Tug Ghyll. She’s surprised to see the light on in the living room and she blinks a few times to make sure it’s not just a trick of the lazy dawn against the glass. 

 

She turns properly to inspect it more closely when it becomes apparent to her that it is the house awake, assuming it must be Tracy up early because Vanessa’s never been much of a lark. The door opens before Charity can pretend she’s doing anything other than blatantly spying, but it’s not Tracy out to chase her down the way with a broom; it’s the only person Charity’s had a mind for since she left her the night before. The only person she really wants to see. 

 

Vanessa appears in her track pants and a well-worn, baggy sweater of Charity’s that she’d forgotten all about, walking down the path to fetch the paper without stopping to survey the morning, completely oblivious to her presence. 

 

Charity doesn’t call out or wave straight away, she doesn’t want to give Vanessa a fright in case she screams and wakes half the bloody village, but she does take a few hesitant steps towards her, hoping the movement will catch Vanessa’s eye. 

 

It does, when Vanessa rises from having bent down to retrieve the paper. Her gaze meets Charity’s and her expression changes, her face breaking in a smile before she straightens her back and sets her hands on her hips. It’s obvious she’s waiting for Charity to cross the distance between them, and Charity does so - not without an eye roll and a sigh at the fact that she’s going to muck up the bottom of her slippers - but she does without hesitation, dancing her fingertips along the fence on her way up the road until she’s standing in front of Vanessa. 

 

“Forgotten something?” Vanessa asks with a smirk, gesturing to Charity’s empty hands. 

 

“Babe, it’s the crack of dawn, I hardly thought you’d have your eyes open by now, let alone be down here,” Charity replies, sighing heavily, because Vanessa’s really not going to make this-

 

Her hands close on the lapels of Charity’s blazer, the paper still bunched in one of them, tugging her forward and crashing their lips together. It takes Charity aback for about three whole seconds before she grabs the paper out of Vanessa’s hands, not breaking the kiss, tossing it to the ground so she can guide Vanessa’s arms around her neck. 

 

“So, I slept on it,” Vanessa says when they part, smiling where their lips meet. 

 

“And?” Charity asks, not able to keep the grin out of her own voice. 

 

Vanessa doesn’t answer her this time either, she just kisses Charity deeply instead, sliding her hands into the hair at the base of Charity’s skull, her tongue sliding hotly over Charity’s, her breath hurried with relief and the rekindled warmth between their bodies. 

 

“I love you, you fool, and I want you to come home,” Vanessa says finally, a tiny waver in her voice as her hold tightens. 

 

It’s a little bit axis-shifting, the way Vanessa says that so easily; it makes Charity melt just a little more against her. “Good,” Charity replies simply, smirking as she speaks.

 

Vanessa pulls away to smack her on the shoulder but Charity tugs her back into her arms, bumping their noses together before she kisses Vanessa again. She thought her memory of this was good during their time apart, torturously good in fact, but her shoddy recollection is nothing on the real thing, it’s nothing on the way she and Vanessa slide together like two worn pieces of glass, somehow perfect despite all their rough, sharp edges. 

 

Vanessa sighs, tightening her arms around Charity’s shoulders when Charity’s arms slip around her lower back, squeezing them together, lifting Vanessa slightly off the ground as her tongue runs along Vanessa’s bottom lip. 

 

“I’m staying, just in case that needs saying,” Charity says when she sets Vanessa back down on her feet, her hands curling around Vanessa’s sides. 

 

“Good,” Vanessa returns with a grin that doesn’t look like it’ll fade for a week if the width of it is anything to go by. 

 

“Thanks, you know,” Charity offers, dropping her head and Vanessa’s gaze for a second. “For not giving up on me, and for listening and letting me explain and whatever else. I know I’m a right pain, babe, but-“

 

“You’re  _ my _ right pain,” Vanessa replies dryly, but still smiling. “And don’t you forget that, alright?”

 

“How could I? Bet I’ll struggle to shake you from my side for a flamin’ week now,” Charity teases against Vanessa’s scowl. 

 

“I mean, I can leave you be if you want,” Vanessa replies nonchalantly, but her hands are moving down Charity’s sides, glancing the curve of her breasts before they settle on the round of her behind. “Can’t do this if I’m not standing next to you though, can I?”

 

“No, you can’t,” Charity returns, feigning thoughtfulness for a second before kissing Vanessa again because she can, because she’s right here in her arms and she can. “Oi, speaking of which,” Charity adds sharply after Vanessa’s hands squeeze, bringing her back to the present, “if that posh bird snogged you, or, god help her did anything beyond that, I’ll kill her. Or send the Dingle mob after her to do it for me.”

 

Vanessa doesn’t say anything right away and for a horrible, sickening second Charity’s worried something physical might actually have happened between them before Vanessa puts her out of her misery, shaking her head. 

 

“She kissed me-not a snog, so put your hackles down,” Vanessa says, tightening her hands to keep Charity still, “but I couldn’t even kiss her back, I couldn’t even hold her hand because all I could think was that she wasn’t you.”

 

“Good,” Charity replies primly, running her palms over the flat of Vanessa’s back in an attempt to soothe herself more than anything else. “Glad to see I make a lingering impression.”

 

“What would you have done though, if we’d….” Vanessa trails off, lowering her eyes and looking at a bit of fluff on Charity’s shoulder instead of up at her. 

 

She doesn’t particularly want to answer her but Charity supposes she owes Vanessa this much, and it’s clear from the ashen expression on her face that she’s not just asking to wind her up. 

 

“Couldn’t have blamed you, babe, if you had. I can’t say I wouldn’t have done it if I was in your position,” Charity admits, because it’s the truth. “It wouldn’t have changed anything though,” she adds gently, meeting Vanessa’s eye with purpose before she smirks. “I’d just have to shag you twice as thoroughly as normal, and take you to wherever she gets her morning coffee from to show her that you’re all mine again, is all.”

 

“ You’re frighteningly pragmatic sometimes, you know,” Vanessa says with a small smile, lifting the weight off Charity’s shoulders before she shivers in the cool morning air.

 

“I don’t have to open up, you know?” Charity offers casually. It’s not exactly the truth but she knows Chas won’t miss the sight of her in a mood this morning if she’s not there when she gets out of bed. 

 

“And I don’t have Johnny, or Tracy,” Vanessa replies with a tone that makes Charity’s spine tingle and her palms warm. 

 

“You don’t?” Charity asks, surprised. 

 

“They’re with Dad and Megan,” Vanessa explains. “Tracy thought you might pay me a visit at some stage and thought it best neither of them nor their ears were in the house.”

 

“Did she think we’d have a barny with Johnny there? God, I’m not that bad a - oh….” Charity finishes for herself, dampening the automatic snap to defence when she realises what the likely actual meaning behind Tracy’s absence is. “You know,” Charity laughs once she’s calmed down a bit, “I knew I liked your sister for a reason.”

 

“To be fair I think she was probably worried about the arguing too but it was more the sex that took precedence,” Vanessa explains, tilting her head from side to side. The familiarity of the gesture makes Charity want to kiss her again, and she does before Vanessa shivers beneath her. 

 

“Have that much of an effect on you, do I?” Charity asks with a wink as Vanessa sighs in exasperation in response. 

 

“God, you’re full of it,” Vanessa breathes, shaking her head. She’s smiling again though, and that, Charity thinks, makes all the difference in the world.

 

It’s ridiculous really, how quickly Vanessa makes her feel like there was never a burden on her shoulders to begin with, how simply she does so too; without money or anything even remotely material, none of the things that Charity has always assumed makes a difference. 

 

“You love it,” Charity says feeling faintly smug and heart-light. 

 

“Yeah, I do,” Vanessa nods, chewing her bottom lip in a way that makes Charity envious of it. It’s a sign of a turning wind, the action, and Vanessa’s stature shifts slightly beneath her hands in the wake of it. “And you love me,” she says looking Charity dead in the eye, “so why don’t you take me inside and show me how much you’ve really missed me?”

 

The absolution of Charity Dingle by Vanessa Woodfield isn’t anything Charity thought she’d ever need, not in a million years, and yet here it is, treasured, all around them, priceless and hard-fought and sparkling with something like potential and forever. 

 

“Best idea I’ve heard in ages,” Charity drawls, her voice heavy and her throat thick but her head free. “Although it seems such a shame to take you out of that top.”

 

Vanessa laughs out loud as Charity plucks at the stretched hem of it, slipping her hands under and pressing them against Vanessa’s bare stomach discreetly. “Probably needs burning, if I’m honest,” Vanessa smirks, reluctantly extracting Charity’s hands, turning and leading her up the path to the house. “Barely been out of it since you left.”

 

“Sentimental, were you?” Charity asks as they cross the threshold, Vanessa’s grip unwavering in her own, trying to stave off the pang of guilt that creeps up her spine at her own quip. 

 

“Weren’t you?” Vanessa questions, turning to Charity with a frown. 

 

“Course I was, babe,” Charity says easily. “Ask Chas if you need proof. Lost my nut at her when she washed one of them ratty old tees you leave around in the bedroom a week ago because it stripped the last of your perfume off completely.”

 

“Look at you,” Vanessa preens, reaching to tuck a strand of Charity’s hair behind her ear, “Charity Dingle, a romantic sap.”

 

“Tell anyone that, and I’ll have to kill you,” Charity says with a light grumble. It’s hard to hold it though, when Vanessa beams back at her. 

 

“Think they probably already have an idea, you know,” Vanessa replies softly, gesturing around to the few people now starting to fill the street on their early morning chores, occasionally glancing at the two of them standing in the doorway of Tug Ghyll. “I don’t think we’re exactly being discreet with this whole reunion nonsense.”

 

“Probably good, isn’t it?” Charity offers, sliding her finger under Vanessa’s chin, tilting her head up so she can kiss her properly. “Do the job of telling the whole village before breakfast at least, won’t they? Save us the chore.”

 

“And that’s alright?” Vanessa asks with a hint of a question in her voice. “That people know we’re back together? You’re okay with that?”

 

“Considering I’m about to have you screaming down the street, I’d say it’s fine, babe,” Charity coos, sliding her hand down the line of Vanessa’s neck until it meets her shoulder. “They’ll know soon enough, one way or another.”

 

“Bit of a lofty promise,  _ down the street _ ” Vanessa teases softly, the tone settling in Charity’s core. “Really think you can live up to it?”

 

“You tell me, Ness,” Charity replies, her voice low, her hands moving to Vanessa’s waist, walking her inside the house and kicking the door shut behind her before she presses Vanessa against it. Her lips find the warmth of Vanessa’s neck easily, her teeth scratching over the skin a way that she’s ached to do for weeks. 

 

“I think I need-” Vanessa begins, and falters, when Charity’s hand slips between their bodies without hesitation, over her stomach, to press against the curve of her pubic bone.

 

“You think you need what exactly, babe?” Charity breathes, applying a touch of pressure, just enough that Vanessa squirms against her hand. 

 

“More of a demonstration,” Vanessa says sharply and all in a rush, catching Charity’s hand sharply, holding it still. 

 

“Do you want me to stop?” Charity asks with a high eyebrow, immediately stilling her movements. She watches Vanessa carefully, looking for any sign of unease or hesitation. 

 

“No.” The word is ardent. Absolute. Vanessa shakes her head. “I want you to take me to bed and do this properly.”

 

“Can’t tempt you with a quickie against the door to take the edge off?” Charity asks hopefully, raising an eyebrow. The bed’s an attractive option, it is, but she can taste Vanessa, she can feel her pliant beneath her hands, and she wants her right now. 

 

“Bed, Charity,” Vanessa says firmly, pushing on Charity’s shoulders until she acquiesces without any fight at all. 

 

She stumbles on her own desire and her haste to turn with Vanessa’s hand in hers before Vanessa presses herself against her back at the foot of the stairs, steadying her and setting her skin ablaze all at once. She leans forward to whisper in Charity’s ear. “Now.”

 

-


	7. Seven; Charity.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I was starting to forget what you looked like, you know,” Vanessa admits quietly. “The little details, I mean."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The reunion, part one. NSFW.

-

 

_Capricious, this life, isn’t it? Cold and hard one moment, warm the next._

 

-

 

Charity takes her time stripping Vanessa’s layers off.

 

She does so by piece, savouring each new inch of skin that she reveals, tasting the firmness of it with her fingertips, and then her tongue. There’s a pace that her racing heart is trying to make her pick up and run with but she’s not having any of it, beating it back so she can enjoy every sigh that escapes Vanessa’s lips, every new wave of goosebumps that break out over her bare flesh.

 

The sweatshirt comes off first, and Vanessa shivers slightly in the coolness of the room before Charity pulls her close, their bodies aligned from knee to breast. She’s only wearing a baggy tee beneath it, and no bra, so Charity loops her fingers under the waistband of her track pants first, sliding easily beneath the elastic, dropping to her knees and taking the fabric with her.

 

Vanessa’s hands slide beneath the lapels of her blazer when she stands up straight, pushing it off her shoulders and letting it drop to the floor. She stops to survey the line of Charity’s body for a moment before she does anything else, running her index finger along Charity’s jaw and her hands down Charity’s arms.

 

“I was starting to forget what you looked like, you know,” Vanessa admits quietly. “The little details, I mean. I tried so hard to remember them, so hard, but they’d started fading, and I think that was the worst thing of all.” Her hands move to the neck of Charity’s blouse, her thumb dipping into the hollow at the base of her throat. “I could remember these three freckles,” Vanessa explains, running her fingertips over them, “but I couldn’t remember what came next.”

 

It’s profound to hear Vanessa admit that because Charity’s absolutely sure she’s never heard anyone say anything like that to her before; she’s positive there’s never been a single person in her life who has even wanted to memorise such small details about her. She was fooling herself to ever think that what she has with Vanessa would be anything short of extraordinary. From the first time Charity took her to bed she knew, because Vanessa’s never looked at her like she's a possession, not even here, half-gone to passion, and she’s never looked at her with pity, either.

 

She just _looked_.

 

How strange to think no one else ever really had.

 

Vanessa smiles as her fingers brush over the little scar on Charity’s clavicle. “That’s right,” she says in relief, “it’s not a freckle at all, that’s why I was struggling.”

 

“Your memory failing you, babe?” Charity jokes lightly, because she’s not exactly sure how to say anything else without her voice breaking. “Don’t need to show you the ropes again, do I?”

 

“I think I’ll remember that just fine,” Vanessa drawls, her hands sliding down Charity’s stomach to the closure of her trousers. She pops the button open easily, pulling her blouse out so she can slide her hands over Charity’s stomach, up her ribs, to the underwire of her bra.

 

She helps Charity shimmy out of her pants before she lifts the shirt over her head too. “Don’t know why I bothered getting dressed up this morning if you’re just going to take it all off,” Charity says with a smirk, finding Vanessa eye, “also don’t quite know how you ended up with more clothes on than me when you started with a half-kit,” Charity notes, reaching for the hem of Vanessa’s t-shirt when her top hits the floor.

 

“So do something about it,” Vanessa says smartly, and Charity raises an eyebrow in reply.

 

“Bossiness still there, I see,” Charity replies, smiling when Vanessa lifts her arms up accommodatingly so Charity can strip the last piece of clothing off, leaving Vanessa almost bare. “Nice to know some things haven’t changed.”

 

“Probably gotten worse if anything,” Vanessa responds with a grin, leading Charity backwards to the bed. She drops Charity’s hand and shuffles smoothly over the covers, up towards the head of the bed. Her gaze is challenging when she looks up, beckoning, as Charity watches with wide eyes. “Are you coming?”

 

“God, I hope so,” Charity says because she can’t help herself, making Vanessa tip her head back and laugh too, the sound gorgeous in the quiet room.

 

She drops on her hands and knees as she crawls up the bed, Vanessa’s eyes almost a crystal blue as they fix on hers, watching every tiny move she makes. The sun’s staring to filter through the drawn curtains now too, and Charity can’t help but think there’s a poetry in that; that they’re here repairing things in the full light of day, not trying to hide between the shadows and shame of their mistakes.

 

She’s never been one for exposing every part of herself, she’s trained herself so neatly to only reveal small careful pieces when it’s beneficial to her, but it’s easy to give everything to Vanessa without her even needing to ask.

 

Charity lets herself smile broadly when she makes her way up the bed, not bothering to temper it at all as she hovers over Vanessa’s body. She drops a well-placed kiss to different paths of skin as she does so; over Vanessa’s knee, at the curve of her hip, on the swell of her breast, until she can kiss her way slowly up Vanessa’s neck. One of Vanessa’s thighs slides between hers and the other wraps around her hip, her thigh tensing in a way that brings Charity flush down against her.

 

“God, I’ve missed you,” Charity purrs, palming Vanessa’s breast roughly, revelling in the feeling of her trying to try to arch beneath Charity’s weight to move into it.

 

“Missed this, you mean?” Vanessa asks wryly, raising an eyebrow, and she doesn’t mean it as a dig but Charity shakes her head regardless.

 

“No, babe,” Charity replies, tilting Vanessa’s chin up again so she can kiss her soundly. “Missed you.”

 

A flash of something almost like surprise at Charity’s openness crosses Vanessa’s face briefly before it's gone. “Not gotten sentimental, have you?” Vanessa asks, but Charity can tell how pleased the correction has made her, her cheeks warm with it.

 

“No, I bloody haven’t and don’t you go spreading that around,” Charity huffs until Vanessa presses her lips against hers and silences the argument.

 

She’s of half a mind to continue the objection but Vanessa’s hands slide down her back, popping the clasp of her bra open, the straps dropping down her arm before Vanessa’s hands cover her completely and she bites her tongue. For now.

 

“I’ve missed you too,” Vanessa says with a sigh, her thumbs brushing over Charity’s nipples, the flesh rising obediently in her wake. “So much,” she breathes as she slides one hand around the back of Charity’s neck to pull her closer, “so, _so_ much.”

 

“I’m not going anywhere, babe,” Charity says simply, because it needs to be said.

 

She watches as Vanessa nods, her eyes slightly glassy before Charity kisses her again, hot and hungry and eager, long and deep enough for Charity to lose where they are, and where she’s been lost to for weeks now. Her hand slips between them when her lips move to Vanessa’s jaw. She leaves messy kisses in her wake as she moves to Vanessa’s neck, her teeth closing around the soft skin when her fingers move beneath the fabric of Vanessa’s underwear.

 

The resultant groan is loud, like Vanessa’s surprised that Charity’s moved so quickly to indulge her. She bucks against Charity’s hand and it Charity’s blood sing; the sound, the pleasure in it, the proof of how much Vanessa wants her vocalised alongside the desire that slips between her fingers.

 

The truth of it is though that she doesn’t think she could wait a second longer if their lives depended on it because Vanessa is here, and that old broken survival instinct is telling her to give her a reason to stay even if Vanessa’s already assured her that she’s not going anywhere. She feels Vanessa’s hand slide down her arm, resting on her forearm as it moves with the rhythm of her fingers, but it doesn’t urge her on, she just holds firm like she’s looking for an anchor; like she needs proof that this is reality and not just another dream.

 

The comfort of it is a surprise, and the intimacy of it too.

 

Vanessa’s completely rewritten her definition of the latter in the last year. It’s not any of the things Charity’s spent the last thirty years convincing herself it was; it’s not defined by wealth or a ring on her finger or jealous attention, or even sex, it’s _this_ , feeling like they’re touching the same livewire when they’re together, feeling like they’re the only people on earth even when they’re standing in the middle of a heaving crowd at the pub.

 

Vanessa is warm and wet beneath her fingers, her chest straining under Charity’s weight on it, but she’s holding Charity to her with a firmness that tells her she doesn’t want her to move an inch.

 

It’s easy to find those small places that make Vanessa moan louder into her mouth when she’s this close to her; they come back to her like she never left at all and she sets into an easy rhythm as Vanessa starts quivering beneath her. She whispers a reverent _oh, god Charity_ into her ear when Charity slides two fingers inside her, her whole body humming with the sensation of Vanessa wrapping completely around her, tensing tightly as Charity leaves a neat set of teeth marks in the skin where her shoulder meets her neck. The hand not holding Charity’s forearm moves from the nape of Charity’s neck down her back, Vanessa’s nails sinking into the flesh between her shoulder blades as her breath starts to quicken and Charity pushes into the pain, beckoning the sharpness into her bones, beckoning Vanessa back in.

 

She comes with a gasp against Charity’s mouth, the rush of her breath pushing the hair down around Charity’s eyes back for a moment. Charity tries to commit it to memory; the way Vanessa’s back bends as tightly as the distance between them will allow, the colour of the blush bright over her chest and neck, the way she feels against Charity’s fingers. Vanessa’s mouth seals against Charity’s as the waves of her release leave her and Charity feels every inch of it, until Vanessa goes slack beneath her, pulling Charity down with her until they’re married together, skin to skin, slightly sticky with the heat of their exertion.

 

“Right,” Vanessa says weakly when she can speak again, her voice rough. “You can go now,” she teases as her arms tighten around Charity’s shoulders. “Got exactly what I was angling for.”

 

“Cheeky cow,” Charity smiles against Vanessa’s lips, moving her head lightly from side to side so they brush together gently. “Knew that was all you really wanted.”

 

Vanessa makes a noise of contentment and Charity can feel the muscles of her stomach tense for a second before Vanessa moves, rolling Charity onto her back and settling between her thighs.

 

“It feels better than I can say to be back here with you,” Vanessa says dreamily.

 

It’s one of those moments where Charity wants to scoff because it’s so sweet it makes her teeth hurt, but that normally makes Vanessa frown and she wants to keep that smile right where it is. “I know what you mean, Ness,” she says instead, running her nails along the line of Vanessa’s arm where it frames the side of her face. “I really did miss you, you know.”

 

“I’m glad I was missable,” Vanessa replies with a blush. She ducks her head so her ponytail drops down around her eyes, almost tickling Charity’s cheek.

 

“You’re having a laugh, aren’t you?” Charity asks. “You? Not missable? Don’t think I’ve forgotten how good those hands of yours are.”

 

“Just the hands then?” Vanessa asks, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth.

 

“Tongue’s not bad, either, from memory,” Charity replies airily, staring somewhere over Vanessa’s shoulder, trying to get a rise out of her before she catches the expression on Vanessa’s face: like she’s waiting for something. “There are a few other good things an’all, but I’d hate for you to get a big head so it’s probably best I keep them to myself.”

 

“Like what?” Vanessa asks coyly, tracing the line of Charity’s collar bone with her finger before dropping her head to press kisses in her wake. She looks up to Charity, her pupils almost fully black, her eyes hungry. “If I like the answer, I might just give you a crash course reminder of that tongue you seem to distantly remember.”

 

“That right?” Charity questions, her whole body lighting from head to toe as Vanessa’s tongue brushes over the swell of her breast before she sucks the skin against her teeth.

 

“Mmhmm,” Vanessa confirms, not bothering to look up before moving to take Charity’s nipple between her lips.

 

She gasps sharply at the unexpected attention, her muscles tensing beneath Vanessa’s touch before Vanessa places her hands on Charity’s sides, pushing her back down against the bed.

 

“Maybe you’d best give me a teaser, Ness,” Charity says smugly, pushing up against Vanessa’s hold. “To jog my memory, yeah?”

 

“No, I think I want you to tell me first,” Vanessa replies, her fingers moving to Charity’s hips. They slide under the waistband of her underwear, pulling it down an inch.

 

_A show of good faith_ , Charity thinks with a smirk. _She wants something. Proof of promise._

 

“Too bloody stubborn for your own good, you are,” Charity replies with an exaggerated huff, smiling at Vanessa at the last second. “Alright then,” Charity says as Vanessa’s hands dance over her hips, “how about…”

 

She trails off into thought for a second, properly racking her brain. It would be easy to make a joke about Vanessa’s ice block feet cooling her down after a call out in the middle of the night, or never wasting a drop of tea because she always ends up drinking half of Charity’s after not wanting one herself, but it’s not the time for jokes. She knows that Vanessa’s waiting for something real.

 

“You’re not a bad masseuse when you put your mind to it,” Charity offers, her eyes eagerly watching Vanessa’s hands as they brush gently over the fine hair of her lower belly. “Not just good for you-know-what. There’s a knot in my back I’ve had for a month that I know you’d get rid of in a second.”

 

“What else?” Vanessa asks, tugging Charity’s underwear lower still. “Dig a little deeper, will you?”

 

“You make everything easier,” Charity gives up when Vanessa’s thumbs brush the curve of her sides. “Everything, Ness. Our little blended family works far better than mine ever has with me on my own.”

 

“That’s not true,” Vanessa says, pressing a kiss to the sharp bone of Charity’s hip. “That’s not just me, that’s you too. It’s _us_.”

 

“It _is_ you though, babe,” Charity sighs. “You’re good at putting up with me. You’re good at channelling me into something useful when I’m in a mood. You’re good at calming me down. You’re good at making me happy.”

 

“We’re good at making each other happy,” Vanessa replies, leaning her head against the inside of Charity’s thigh, her knee bent to give Vanessa something to rest against. Charity opens her mouth to argue but Vanessa catches her first, sealing Charity’s lips with one of her fingers. “We are, Charity. When we’re not being obtuse and acting like children and running away from the things that make us happy. When we’re not running away from each other.”

 

She can’t really challenge that so she reaches for Vanessa instead, pulling her up for a kiss, slow and steady, before Vanessa sinks back down over her thighs.

  
  
-


	8. Eight; Charity.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It’s not putting up with you, you know?” Vanessa says. “It’s never been a chore, getting to stand at your side. It never will be a chore.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wee delay but here's the final chapter. Thank you to everyone who followed along with this and trudged through the angst. This was a lovely story to write so I hope it's been half as good to read.

-

 

_Home? It's this, isn't it?_

 

-

 

“It’s not putting up with you, you know?” Vanessa says when she motions for Charity to lift her hips so she can finally drag her underwear down and off. “It’s never been a chore, getting to stand at your side. It never will be a chore.”

 

Vanessa moves to sink between Charity’s thighs, she can feel Vanessa’s breath warm over her core and it’s torturous to do so but she grabs for Vanessa’s hands just before she makes contact, shaking her head. 

 

“Come up here, will you?” Charity asks. She knows Vanessa won’t make her feel as stupid as she feels voicing it but she tenses in something like embarrassment anyway. 

 

“I thought you-“ Vanessa starts, cutting herself off. There’s a smile on her lips but she doesn’t say anything else about Charity’s change of heart. 

 

“Later-“ Charity says quickly, scooping her hands around Vanessa’s elbows, pulling her up. “You’re too bloody far away down there.”

 

Vanessa leans down and melts their lips together when she settles over Charity. It feels significantly better to have her here, her weight warm and solid. She’s not gentle with her kisses as she presses them across Charity’s upper body, nor are her hands as they move up Charity’s sides, her nails dragging just enough to leave little red lines in the skin, but Charity’s thankful for it. Gentleness would be too much for this reunion, for what they’ve been through to get here. A strictly soft touch wouldn’t be enough, it’d be too uncomfortable, like they’re ignoring the chaos they’ve waded amongst to meet each other in the middle; instead, this feels satisfying in a way she’s not sure how to articulate. 

 

It’s a credit to Vanessa that she’s never shied away from what Charity needs in bed, that sometimes she needs sharper teeth and a firmer hand because everything else barely makes her feel anything at all. It’s a credit to her also that Vanessa’s always been able to read when she needs that touch a little stronger than usual without Charity ever having to say a word. 

 

A vague sense of relief settles over her as Vanessa begins to mark her place over Charity’s body - not solely because she wants to herself, but because Charity needs it - because she wants to wear evidence of Vanessa’s presence here in this bed with her proudly come the morning for everyone to see. She’s never been ashamed of her body, nor the things other people leave on it, and she’s never been prouder to wear anything the way she wears Vanessa’s affection.

 

Vanessa’s thigh is pressed hard against her in a way that Charity knows Vanessa can feel exactly how much she needs her, exactly how much she’s missed this, and she doesn’t bother with sensibilities, grinding as firmly as she can while Vanessa takes her nipple between her teeth, shivering hard when her teeth scrape just sharply enough. 

 

“I should make you wait for this, you know,” Vanessa teases, her hand gliding down between their bodies, far too soft to be satisfying. “As payback for being so stupidly stubborn.”

 

“You don’t really want to though, do you, babe?” Charity asks in a desperate attempt to stop Vanessa from stalling. 

 

“Well, no,” Vanessa sighs with a teasing nonchalance as Charity’s breath catches, her hand moving down, fitting firmly between their hips, “I suppose you’re right…”

 

Her lips are soft against Charity’s cheek, the hair of her ponytail brushing Charity’s ear where it hangs down, but it’s all background noise really because Vanessa touches her - _really_ touches her - her and it drives everything clear from her mind. There’s a firm delicacy to her fingers that Charity can never quite describe or do justice to that’s so different to anything else she’s ever experienced; she’s strong and she’s sure and her fingers are long and the reality of the thing that Charity has been dreaming about for weeks now overwhelms her now that it’s here. 

 

Charity kisses Vanessa hard when she starts to pick up the pace, her hand wrapped around the back of Vanessa’s neck, her mouth greedy against Vanessa’s. “More, Ness,” she says with a rough gasp, her breath hot as it mixes with Vanessa’s. “More. I need more.”

 

Vanessa acquiesces and it makes Charity’s heart skip a beat before she starts rocking her hips against Vanessa’s hand. The movement is more desperate than graceful but Vanessa doesn’t seem to mind, she just tries to match the intensity instead, pushing harder, kissing Charity longer until her spine starts tingling and her bones begin to lighten. 

 

Charity comes slowly, the build gradual until it bubbles over, breaking like some great tidal wave, rushing over every inch of her skin. Vanessa is relentless too, not satisfied with only once, her fingers curling, pushing, pushing, pushing until Charity comes again, her voice loud and unchecked in the small space of Vanessa’s bedroom. 

 

Vanessa finds that hollow within the crook of Charity’s neck that she’s so fond of when she settles into Charity’s side, her breath a soft tattoo on Charity’s throat as she comes down from her high. It’s easy to feel almost overwhelmed by euphoria and relief and sleep in that moment, with Vanessa’s leg draped over hers, her hand running up and down the line of Charity’s thigh and over her hip, the weight she’s been pining for finally resting against her. 

 

“Think that’s the first time I’ve had a proper workout in two months,” Charity says with a laugh, catching Vanessa’s hand in her own, weaving her fingers through Vanessa’s. 

 

“I should think so,” Vanessa mumbles against her neck, not bothering to raise her head. “Hope you haven’t done that with anyone else.”

 

“Course I haven’t, Ness,” Charity says seriously, because it needs to be on the record in her own voice, not echoed by Tracy or overheard in a dingy pub backroom. “It’s you, isn’t it; what I want. All I want. It’s only you.”

 

She feels stupid sometimes, giving things like that so freely, wincing automatically as she waits for the harsh reaction she’s had so many times, but she never gets that from Vanessa. She never has and she knows she never will. Vanessa’s eyes glisten and Charity knows she’s said the right thing, that the risk in her admission was worth it. That’s it though, Charity thinks: it’s overwhelmingly frightening, but it’s not bad. Taking a leap of faith can be good, Charity knows this now too, when it’s Vanessa’s arms she’s leaping into. 

 

“I love you,” Vanessa replies with a gravelly voice before their eyes meet. When they do, Vanessa’s are heavy with tears, making her eyes _so_ blue in the morning light. 

 

“I love you too, babe,” Charity responds with a softness that she’s become accustomed to, familiar with, because of Vanessa. 

 

There’s so much she only knows because of Vanessa when she thinks about it. Forgiveness. Peace. What a family really looks like. Contentment. Satisfaction. She sighs heavily, leaning into the warmth of Vanessa’s body, grinning before she speaks. “And I love them hands of yours too, don’t I. Christ, I forgot how good you actually are.”

 

“That’s reason alone to stay really, isn’t it?” Vanessa asks before she smiles at Charity with a genuineness that makes Charity not half-proud to have put it there. 

 

“Yeah, babe,” Charity replies, leaning in to press her lips against Vanessa’s before she shifts back to survey this prize she’s somehow managed to win back. It’s a miracle in itself, that, because Charity Dingle isn’t a winner, not in this life. Or at least she wasn’t before Vanessa. “That and everything else too.”

 

“How long do you have before Chas comes looking for you?” Vanessa asks with a softly curious sigh that makes Charity’s stomach growl for something not even remotely food related. 

 

“Couple of hours, I reckon,” Charity replies smoothly, smirking. Her eyes run over Vanessa’s bare chest as Vanessa inhales shallowly. “Longer if she comes too close and hears any of the noises coming from this house.”

 

“More noises, eh?” Vanessa asks, her smile widening as Charity shifts her weight. She moves, hovering over Vanessa with her arms on either side of her head. “Reckon you’ve got it in you?” she teases boldly. “Don’t need a kip first?”

 

“Excuse you,” Charity says with a huff, glaring down at Vanessa. “I’ve got two months of pent up sexual tension under this cool facade. Yeah, I think I’ve got it in me, babe.”

 

“Good,” Vanessa replies easily, her hands sliding down Charity’s sides. They curl around her backside before her hands squeeze. “Because I do too.”

 

“That right?” Charity asks, pleased with the firmness of Vanessa’s grip “Well, I suppose I’d best get started on letting some of that out, hadn’t I?”

 

One of Vanessa’s arms slides around Charity’s back as her mouth lowers to Vanessa’s breast, drawing the skin tightly against her teeth. “You’d better,” Vanessa replies smoothly, pushing up into the contact as Charity smiles against her.

 

There’s so much that Charity needs to say still, so much that Vanessa will need to say too, but all of that can wait a while longer because there are different things that need to be said for now; physical affirmations and realignments and learning every curve of Vanessa’s body again. 

 

It’s not daunting either, sitting down with Vanessa and talking until they’re hoarse if that’s what Vanessa wants. It makes Charity feel light instead, like she fits here, like she’s supposed to be exactly where she is. 

 

“Were you really going to stay away forever?” Vanessa asks her hours later, after a succession of knocks from different people finally prompts the two of them to start thinking about joining the outside world again. 

 

They stay here for now though, Charity on her back with Vanessa draped over her body, her palm flat over Charity’s heart; because their urgency isn’t Charity’s, and the contentment of the moment is overwhelming. 

 

It’s a not unexpected question, and one that haunted her the most while they were apart: was her self control _really_ that strong. 

 

Charity sighs before she answers, and her movement makes Vanessa’s hand rise and fall on her chest. “If it meant you’d have a better life, then yeah, babe,” she says finally, looking to Vanessa before the corner of her mouth twitches in a smile. “I would’ve. But I’m very glad you’d rather have me here to make your life miserable instead.” 

 

“Look, if that’s your idea of miserable I’m not sure I’ll live through you making me feel anything more positive,” Vanessa laughs, and it’s such a soft reminder of how good things are with her that it’s all Charity can do to smile like an idiot back at her. 

 

The peace is only momentary though because the next second, before Charity’s even had a chance to kiss the smirk off Vanessa’s face, they hear the front door of Tug Ghyll crash open and hit the door stop and Chas’s furious voice bellow up the stairs. 

 

“Charity Dingle, if you don’t come down and man that bar within the next ten minutes, I’m coming up there regardless of your current state of indecency.”

 

It’s followed by the door slamming shut again and Charity lifts her body up slightly out the window to catch a glance of Chas stomping back towards the pub with her arms crossed over her chest. 

 

“It is well past lunchtime,” Vanessa says with a wince of regret, lifting herself up on one elbow, stretching her other arm up towards the ceiling. 

 

“Yeah, well, we had a lot of making up to do, didn’t we?” Charity replies defensively, her hand running down Vanessa’s spine as the bones shift and pop with her stretch, her eyes admiring the borderline immature mess she’s made of Vanessa’s throat. “By the way, babe. Might want a scarf, eh?”

 

“Are you going to bother?” Vanessa asks with a self-satisfied grin, pointing to Charity’s neck in a similar state. 

 

“Let them see,” Charity shrugs flippantly. “Give ‘em a bit of a kick, won’t it. Chance to gossip for five minutes. Not like the lot of them have sex lives half as good.”

 

“Come on,” Vanessa replies, rolling her eyes at Charity’s response, throwing the covers off them both. 

 

“Oi,” Charity says sharply against the rush of cold over her naked body. “Give a girl some warning, will you?”

 

“I am not having Chas catching us in the nick,” Vanessa replies, throwing her legs out of bed, “and we both know she’ll be back over her with fire and a pitchfork in hand if you’re not dressed and through that pub door in five minutes.”

 

“Forgot you were a goody-two shoes,” Charity grumbles as she echoes Vanessa’s movements, walking around the room and picking up odd bits of clothing until she’s got a full outfit she can pull on. 

 

“You love it,” Vanessa replies, wrapping her arms around Charity’s waist from behind before she pulls her blazer on. She presses a kiss to Charity’s shoulder and her arms squeeze tight around her middle. “The bad girl always fancies the good girl, even if she pretends not to.”

 

“Babe, have you been in this same room for the last six hours?” Charity deadpans, turning her head as much as their position will allow to try and look Vanessa in the eye. “I don’t think you can call yourself a good girl after that performance.”

 

“What am I, then?” Vanessa asks as Charity turns in her arms and locks her hands together behind the nape of Vanessa’s neck.

 

“Mine,” Charity replies simply. “How’s that?” 

 

“It’ll do,” Vanessa says, her smile broadening until it colours her eyes a bright blue.

 

“ _It’ll do_?” Charity objects, rolling her eyes, dropping her arms down to her slides with a slap against her thighs. “God, you really are a romantic, aren’t you?”

 

“Suppose that makes you mine too, doesn’t it?” Vanessa says, pulling Charity back into her arms. She presses a kiss to Charity’s lips that’s completely chaste but it feels significant, a bit like a new beginning, before Vanessa’s hand slips into hers. “Come on, throw that blazer on and I’ll come have a bite of lunch over the bar with you if Chas lets me through the door.”

 

 “Lucky it’s half my pub too, innit?” Charity replies, before they make their way down the stairs. 

 

“Oh good, lunch is on you then, is it?” Vanessa teases, pulling the door shut behind them.

 

“You joking?” Charity asks incredulously as they stop at the end of the path leading up to the front door of the pub. “Chas’ll probably charge you double. Charity-tax. For making me late.”

 

“Tell her I’ve got an arrangement with the other owner,” Vanessa replies in a low voice. She pulls on Charity’s arms, bringing them close together so she can kiss Charity one final time before they head inside.

 

“Oh?” Charity asks with piqued interest, raising an eyebrow high. “And what arrangement is that then?”

 

“Come around after you finish and I’ll tell you all about it,” Vanessa says with just the right amount of warmth to make Charity’s mind spin and her heart thump in anticipation. 

 

“Oh, _that_ kind of arrangement,” Charity smiles as she nods in understanding. “Should warn you though, babe, I want a good trade if she’s docking that from my takings. A decent lunch has gotta be worth what, an hour in bed?”

 

“A hour in bed? A ten-minute back rub, more like,” Vanessa says with a snort, turning her back and pushing through the door to the Woolpack as Charity catches sight of Chas’s exasperated expression across the bar. 

 

She thinks briefly about just doing a bunk but Vanessa’s holding the door open for her, and it’s so stupidly symbolic that Charity can’t help but sigh and walk through it to meet her fate. Chas’s _finally_ resonates across the room rudely, but Charity couldn’t care less, especially not after her cousin's glare softens when she sees Charity’s hand in Vanessa’s. 

 

_It’s a mess, this_ , Charity thinks with a small private smile as she presses a quick kiss to Vanessa’s cheek and leaves her on a bar stool before ducking around to stand next to Chas, but it’s their mess. She’s Vanessa’s mess and Vanessa is hers. 

 

And that’ll do just fine for now. 

  
- 

_End_. 

-

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](http://tigerlo.tumblr.com),  
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/tigerlo_) etc. 
> 
> And stop by if you enjoyed. I know it's not everyone's cup of tea, but hopefully, it's someones.


End file.
